


Catalyst

by 200percent_inlove



Category: K-pop, Red Velvet (K-pop Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, WENSEOK IS MY HAPPY OTP, and no one can tell me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-07-16 09:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16083215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/200percent_inlove/pseuds/200percent_inlove
Summary: “Hey Wendy.”“Yes?”“I just realized.”“Seok-ah, are you going to say more than three or four syllables per sentence?”“You’re a girl.”“Yes, and water is wet and my hair is drier than the Sahara Desert. Anything else new?”“Want to go on a date?”Friendship, adulting AU.





	1. Pre-Date

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by a multitude of things: Rachel and Joey's date scene from Friends, my own Tinder horror experiences and when my girlfriends used to ship me with my guy friend because of how nicely he treated me - he's now happily in a relationship, while I am still single. LOL  
> To add, after I wrote that angsty Wenseok last year, I soon realized I can't toy with their emotions and break them apart ;_; THEY'RE SUCH PRECIOUS BALLS OF SUNSHINE AND VITAMINS THAT I JUST CAN'T.  
> Hope you guys enjoy!

Jung Ho-Seok and I are friends.

 ** _Close, platonic_** friends, to be precise.

See, we grew up on the same street, lived as neighbours:  Shared our spacious backyards for barbeques and annual neighbourhood Summer parties, partnered up for group projects (For purposes of easy access, mind you – not because he actually worked hard), walked to and from school with him stealing my bookbag so I didn’t have to heave all my textbooks, had leftover pizza as snacks and traded Pokémon cards and stickers from our collector books.

Unfortunately, that type of closeness also piques curiously uncomfortable questions and awkwardly annoying comments.

Such as, “So, when are you two getting together?”, “Ho-Seok cares about you so much; are you **_sure_** he’s not interested?”, “I would totally ship Seung-Seok”, “Seok is lucky to have you” (And vice versa), “You and Ho-Seok would have the cutest stories to tell your grandkids” etcetera.

To which, all we do is laugh boisterously as if it’s the biggest joke of the century. Because it is.

Jung Ho-Seok and I are friends, yes.

And ** _yes_** , I will not deny his perfectly symmetrical face (Screw him for facial perfection).   ** _Yes_** , his growth spurt happened a tad bit too late and he now towered over me at a shockingly mountainous five foot ten.  **_Yes_** , his positive outlook on life is infectious and he’s like your personal VitaminWater without the extra sugar and calories. **_Yes,_** his style has upgraded from polo t-shirts to leather jackets and Dr. Martens (And he looks hella fine). And **_yes_** , the theoretical concept of falling in love with your best friend after two and a half decades was something that could only be found in Nicholas Spark’s next novel, titled **_“The Korean Notebook”_**.  

But, he’s purposefully spilt red and blue paint on my costly white lace dress on school picture day, so he didn’t have to be the only foolish imbecile whom couldn’t coordinate his colours properly.

His rooster-like squawks every few seconds during a first-grade math quiz lead me to verbally tell him I wanted Ursula to come to life from my storybook and take his larynx away, to which I followed up with an insulting ‘ _Hopey Dopey_ ’ to make him sob bucketloads – the milder equivalent to cussing up a storm.

He caught nasty insects (Cockroaches, spiders, ants) that hid themselves in the nooks and crannies of our classrooms, squashing them in my face.

I deliberately sent chalk dust in his direction to irritate his nose and make him sneeze.

He kicked my chair from behind whenever I was positioned in front of him.

I aimed straight for his head with dodgeballs during P.E.

All of these, and many, many more anecdotes, just point to the one conclusion that despite our lifelong friendship, ‘Jung-Son’, ‘Wen-Seok’ and ‘Seung-Seok’ was, is and will never happen.

“Not in the next million years,” Ho-Seok said at our ten-year high school reunion, counting with his fingers. “See, you can’t even do this math with your hands.”

“Never in this century.” I would chime in, sipping orange juice much to the disappointment of our ‘ _Wen-Seok_ ’ shippers.  

Because Jung Ho-Seok was never going to be my ideal type.

And I’m never going to be his ideal type.

* * *

 

Twenty-eight years on this Earth, and Ho-Seok was _still_ as annoying, _still_ as tenacious as he was from Kindergarten. I guess it pays off in the end, especially now that he owned a three-storey penthouse in one of the most luxurious neighbourhoods in all of Seoul, and still managed to look like he never aged past eighteen.

Jesus Christ, I thought mechanical engineers were supposed to be balding and pudgy with waistlines the size of tires.

“How the heck do you do it?” has become one of my mainstay questions whenever I saw him on the weekends. “Ho-Seok, tell me. Has Samsung been developing some one-shot-one-kill pill to help you seize the day with energy while keeping your DNA intact?”

“You should be talking to my Yoongi- _hyung_ ; he’s the biomedical genius there,” He mumbles through a mouthful of sausage and eggs benedict, peering at me with grave concern. “Secondly, no, of course not. But even if we did, you certainly could use one. Your concealer sucks.”

Savage prick.

Since I was going back to school to specialize in emergency nursing, our weekly meet-ups were now quite rare. Fortunately, I was still on my break, and my semester was starting in a few days. I was no longer suffocating with assignments and midterms, so we decided to make good use of my brief period of leisure time for brunch. Simple get-togethers amongst friends, right?

That is, until halfway through his second plate of pancakes, when he started to tug on his collared dress shirt anxiously and heaved an apprehensive breath. “Hey, Wen-Wen.”

I knew Seok inside out. And whenever he did _that_ (An old habit of his that he could never get rid of, despite being told off by his mother one too many times), I knew that he needed something – but didn’t know how to approach the topic.  

“Yes, Seok? Wendy Son at your service.”

Voice completely mystified, he whispers creepily, “So, I just realized.”

Well, _that_ was a sudden change. I look squarely into his eyes, only to see his brown orbs bright with a flash of wonder that was rarely seen unless he had experienced some mind-blowing epiphany.

“Seok- _ah_ ,” I grumble with a glare. “Time is of the essence. Are you going to say more than three or four syllables per sentence?”

“You’re a,” He prods my dimple with his finger curiously, and I swat his hand away before he could touch anything else. “ _Girl_.”

“Yes, I am.” The amount of patience I have for Ho-Seok is absurd. “And water is wet, and my hair is drier than the Sahara Desert. Anything else new?”

Before he can stop himself, he blurbs out with a red flush, “Want to go on a date?” 

Whoa.

Hold the phone.

My fork falls from my grip completely.  “…Are you fucking **_high_**? D’you want to die?”

“Ey, not like that!” Ho-Seok clarifies. “Not like I want to _date_ you like make you my girlfriend, but I want to date **_you_**.” Either I’m just not comprehending what he’s saying, or the _impact_ from his word was too incredible to the point that my synapses short-circuited.

Smiling widely, he adds, “For practice!”

Truly, if there was a better time for any incompetent drivers to accidentally steer into a building and create sheer panic and disperse large crowds, it would be now. Preferably, into our booth. God help me, now.

“Great,” I deadpan. “I feel **_very_** much wanted. Thank-you, Seok. After we leave, I will literally _sock_ you in the face.” Sending him a glower with as much terror I could summon from my entire being, I whisper, “Pun very much intended right there.”

“No, no, **_no_**! Hear me out for a minute, okay?”

* * *

 

Believe it or not, Ho-Seok had a full harem of teenage girls under his reign when we were in high school comprising of different clique members:  Hot, attractive cheerleaders; shy, scholarly class presidents; the artsy but quiet wallflowers, you get my drift. And it wasn’t much of a shock on Valentine’s Day when his locker was flooded with homemade chocolate truffles and cringey, heartfelt confessions from both male and female students alike.

Charmingly boyish good looks aside, it was his friendly demeanor that made him so likable amongst our class. He wasn’t being ‘nice’ for popularity (Much to the chagrin of his jealous admirers); he was kind, not for the sake of wanting to get into anybody’s pants for that matter – but because kindness was ingrained into the boy since he was born. Unlike those muscular, steroid-consuming jocks that made crude remarks about breast sizes during their locker room talks, he never participated. When the chubbiest girl in school was turned down by her mean-spirited crush for one of our dances, Ho-Seok asked her if she wouldn’t mind _him_ being her date. And when our principal was preparing to retire, _he_ was the only one who grouped everyone together to sign a ‘Thank-you for everything!’ card with a chocolate fudge cake.       

He wasn’t some genius either, God no. But he never hurt a fly – or in this case, a pubescent teenager. He made an effort to include everyone and trust me:  There wasn’t a single soul in our graduating class whom didn’t thank him for making them feel welcome in our yearbooks.

Jung Ho-Seok was the living embodiment of sunshine and rainbows.  And teenagers loved anything made of sugar, spice and everything nice.

His natural ability in making friends and his genuine love for people helped him climb the social ladder without any torso or six-pack reveals. Yet, hilariously enough, venturing into the realm of raunchy flirting, first dates and clumsy sexual encounters was something he…lacked experience in. University didn’t improve this, since he was too busy with his nose buried in his textbooks while fussing over indecipherable blueprints and co-managing several clubs at once.

And now, the novice-levelled, perpetually-single and never-had-a-girlfriend-ever Ho-Seok finally decided to take the plunge with online dating.    

It takes him at least ten minutes to get his words out in a blubbering mess –

And double the time for me to calm down from laughing in hysterics.

“This really isn’t that funny, you know,” Ho-Seok frowns, setting his phone down in humiliation. “If it were you, you’d definitely need way more practice than I ever will.”

“Please,” I snap, flicking a stray tear away from the corner of my eye. “I’ve actually had a few people ask me out this week. How many matches have you got, anyway?” I make a quick grab for his phone, and he slides it underneath his arm. “What the fuck, man. Do you need my help or not?”

“Fine, but don’t laugh!” Ho-Seok warns, slipping into my seat.  “I only have like two hundred and thirty-something matches.”

I couldn’t help but choke on my own spit, my own pride and self-confidence badly damaged. “You **_WHAT_**?!”

“Is that too little?” Oh, my poor, sweet Ho-Seok – how naïve was he.

Being an engineer, Ho-Seok was quite anal about the way he organized things. One example would be how he arranged the applications on his phone, categorizing them as “Offline Games”, “Cooking”, “Music” and of course, “Social”.   

“Bumble, Tinder _and_ Coffee Meets Bagel? How desperate are you?!”

“I read somewhere that these were the golden trio for first-timers!” Ho-Seok counters.

“Coffee Meets Bagel is probably the worst one, just sayin’.” He didn’t argue with me on that, snatching his mobile back to uninstall the application. “I mean, that twenty-four-hour wait is unbearable.”

 “Agreed,” And then quietly, “I can’t believe I spent forty dollars on a thousand extra beans to unlock my matches, too.”

“ ** _What_** did you just say?”

“N-nothing!”

Ho-Seok’s preference was Tinder – but unlike the majority of the population using it to find Netflix-and-chill buddies to satisfy their sexual desires, or desperate fools willing to pay for free drinks, his reasons were much more unorthodox. “I mean, if you read some of the tech magazines every now and then – “

When I mean unconventional, I legit mean straight up _weird_.

“Mmhmm?”

“Many designers often say Tinder outcompetes the rest because – ” Ho-Seok then proceeds to go on an aimless ramble about user interface, user experience design and the simple yet strategic swipe-right tactic:  All things that I failed to understand because _I simply do not care_.

“Ho-Seok, I love you and your wonky nerdiness and all,” I deadpan. “But everything you say enters my brain like slimy gloop, and it doesn’t bother to stay. Please,” Gesturing to his phone, I grumble, “Proceed with your matches and show me who will _finally_ be the one to punch that V-card, or so help me God, I will deactivate all your accounts and leave you single for eternity.” 

“Would you mind being a little bit more discreet? I’m pretty sure the guy at the bar just heard you talking about my everlasting singledom,” Ho-Seok groans loudly.

“And, I’m sorry, stranger, but so did we,” A feminine, giggly voice calls out from the table behind us.

Jeez, and I thought Ho-Seok could sink no lower (Literally speaking); his body continued to slide underneath our table until only the top of his hazelnut-dyed head was visible, his face crimson and lips mouthing, “Kill me now.”

Letting out a low whistle, I only reply, “May God bless your soul, girl.”

* * *

 

Tinder’s been around for far too long, so any chance of being decently witty was now completely out of the question. If it wasn’t the generic _“I want to bring someone to family events so my (Insert-member-of-choice) will stop questioning what’s wrong with me”_ or the row of flag emojis showcasing one’s personal wealth and how well-travelled they were, there were always various alternatives.

Ho-Seok’s profile was…dare I say it… _impressive_?  His photos were of insanely high quality, portraying not only an attractive, handsome face but a personality as well.

 “Nam-Joon helped you out with this, huh?” I ask.

“Jung-Kookie selected the pictures.”

“Better than Jimin, I guess. And wow, you’re certainly…blunt and to the point online.” I pause at his biography.

  * _I put the “Hoe” in Ho-Seok. Just kidding, I’m not really. I’m one heck of a dancer, though. Will probably out-dance you._



“Did Jimin type this?”

“Um…maybe?”

“…God.”

  * _I can help you fix bugs on your computer._



“REALLY, now?” I question demandingly. “How come you said no when I asked you about my Macbook?”

“Um, next bullet!”

  * _Multilingual support_



“That’s true,” I agree. “You’re _somewhat_ fluent in Japanese, I guess.”

“And English!” He pipes up.

“…No. Just, _no_.”

Clearing his throat, he suddenly hollers, “I LOVE HAMBURGER.”

“AND SPRITE. **_I KNOW_**. SHUT UP.”

  * _I’m on Tinder for scientific purposes._



“Like determining the velocity at which how quickly bodily fluids – **_OW,_** what’d you do that for?”

“Shush!”

  * _Your parents will love me._



“Also true. My parents keep asking how you are.”

“See, I’m the ideal son.”

“I fail to agree.”

  * _I make a mean omelette._



“Pancakes, Seok. It’s the PANCAKES that you’re the best at!”

  * _And if all else fails, the six other boys in my last photo are single if you’d rather meet them._



“Don’t Jung-Kookie and Ye-Rim have a thing going on right now?”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

I swipe over to Ho-Seok’s list of matches; it didn’t take much in finding the one that was his current virtual-apple-of-his-eye:  Kim Ji-Soo. All she wrote on it was ‘SNU’, ‘Not DTF’ and something about how liking water was equivalent to liking 72% of her.

I digress, but my goodness gracious, she was stunningly beautiful. _So_ beautiful to the point that even my own heart stopped beating for a few moments. And not only was she easy on the eyes, her photographs displayed a rather flashy and vibrant social life, too.  The sole Snow-edited selfie (A vast improvement from Snapchat’s doggo); hiking up Mount Fuji with three of her friends whilst managing to look freshly dewy rather than grossly sweaty; posing with her neighbour’s puppy with the whitest, gummiest smile I had ever laid my eyes on; and stealing the spotlight as a maid of honour at someone’s wedding in a low-cut periwinkle dress.

Ah. No wonder. She studied dentistry:  That explains the healthy gums. If Ho-Seok and Ji-Soo miraculously go steady, I need to put a reminder in my phone to floss before meeting her for the first time.

“She’s **_stunning_** , isn’t she?” Ho-Seok’s grin tells me he’s been thinking about things beyond a first date, but who am **_I_** to burst his tiny excited bubble?

“Definitely the type that you would go for, but, Seok – “ I bite my lower lip in hesitation, pondering if this is a good idea.

You know what? I’m his close friend. And with that label, I need to pull him out of the rabbit hole before he spirals further down.

“You have a whole list of new matches, waiting for your reply. Yet, the only active chat that you have is with Ji-Soo.”

“But Wendy, she **_was_** my first match!”

“That doesn’t mean you should be putting all your eggs into this one basket,” I explain, swiping through the shots of cleavage and filtered selfies, my thumb tiring when I reached the end. “I’m going to be the Debbie Downer here, Seok, but if she turns out to be a dud and not at all the goddess you imagined, what are you going to do then?”

“So,” Ho-Seok drawls slowly with a sense of childlike wonderment. “You suggest that I should talk to these people too?”

Oh, my God. Someone, anyone, please buy Ho-Seok a beginners’ guide to online dating.  I’m going to lose my shit before the end of the day. “Tinder isn’t a thing where you’re expected to find your soulmate in one go, stupid!” I exclaim, palming my forehead in frustration. “I can bet you a looker like Ji-Soo is going to have dozens of guys in her queue as well.”

He looks scandalized. And I’m confused as to why he should be. “You mean, she’s going to be talking to other people as well?!”

 “ ** _YES_**!”

“But, she suggested that we go on a date!”

“First dates don’t mean jack shit, Ho-Seokkie! Just because she liked you behind the screen doesn’t mean anything!” I reply, pausing mid-scroll to press on an active chat head. I send this cute, pouty Momo my most pitiful regards:  I’m so sorry Ho-Seok left you hanging without reading your pick-up line.

“Look at her! She’s a blonde bombshell, and she’s currently here from Japan on exchange!”

“...And she has a fetish for touching people’s asses, as seen on line six of her biography,” Ho-Seok points out. “I think my lack of response to her question regarding _‘butt seckuseu’_ is valid.”

“Fine. Look! What about this Minji? She has a sense of humour, she seems smart _and_ she’s a dancer!” I cast him a hopeful glance, but he shudders, complexion paling.

“No. Just, _no,”_ He mumbles with a stubborn shake of his head. “Just so you’re aware, by the way, Minji was the really pretty girl whom bullied you in high school because you and I were _‘too close’_. There’s no fucking way in hell that I’ll go out with her,” He casts a worried glance at me, knowing that it was still a sensitive thing to talk about. “ _Especially_ after what she put you through.”

Sometimes, Ho-Seok has this uncanny ability to make you tear up happily, but, I guess that’s what happens when you stare into the sun for too long. I punch him in the shoulder encouragingly. “Thanks, Seok. That _really_ means a lot.”  

“Ey, what are friends for?” He beams proudly. “She stuffed _used panties_ into my locker on Valentine’s Day. She should be thanking the heavens that I wasn’t mean. And no offense, I’m glad she did the unthinkable to her nose.”

“ ** _So_** botched.”

“Tragic.”

“But anyways, let’s see, who else seems interesting amongst your two hundred-ish? Oh, shit,” I pause and press on the picture of a girl that I knew all too well. I recognized the vibrant Little-Mermaid hair any day. “How in the world did you match with Soo-Youngie?”

“Your crazy, horny-a-f-twenty-four-seven friend? Yeah. I don’t know; either I was drunk or something, but she’s freaking weird. She asked me if I was willing to go down on her on the first date.”

“You’re too innocent for her, and you probably won’t be able to satisfy her desires in bed, anyway. Unmatch.” Just as I was about to, however, the mobile buzzes and the screen pops up with Ji-Soo’s response.

“Oh, my God! She replied!” I attempt to slap his iPhone back into his hand, only for it to fall and let out a sickeningly loud crunch when it fell onto the wooden table. “Seok, what’s wrong?!”

“I – I’m getting too nervous!” Disregarding his now cracked screen, he hands it back to me. “ _You_ talk to her!”

“It’s _your_ Tinder! And _your_ match! And _your_ date!” I’m pretty sure his phone was dead at this point.

“Um - “

“Now, DO it! Talk to her!”

“ ** _NO_**!”

Through our rough tussle, my finger accidentally swipes across the chat –

An unintentional heart was sent flying into her notifications.

And I have never seen Ho-Seok more livid.

“OH, MY GOD.” His scream reverberates throughout the entire restaurant, with the remaining patrons and the sole waiter sending us questionable, scornful gazes. “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

“I – I don’t know!” I screech, half in amusement and half in terror. “What the fuck is this slingshot thing, anyway?”

“OH, MY GOD. I AM MORTIFIED. HERE. TAKE MY PHONE. I’M GOING TO HIDE IN THE WASHROOM CUBICLE AND NEVER COME OUT – ”

“Ho-Seok, stop! _STOP_! **_STOP IT THIS INSTANCE_**!” I shriek commandingly, yanking on his shirt sleeve to keep him from escaping. “Look at this! No, stop squinting your eyes and OPEN them! Read this! What does it say?!”

_So, I guess the heart means you’re good for a date this upcoming Saturday?_

Not surprisingly, we are now blacklisted from ever returning to this restaurant.

“You owe me big.” I retort as we leave without our leftovers. “I’m still hungry, too.”

“Who cares? I got a date with Ji-Soo!”

* * *

 

Back when Ho-Seok and I still lived right next door, our homes were each other’s home. Now that we’ve fully transitioned into adulthood (In body, not in mind or spirit), Ho-Seok's penthouse became my ‘home-away-from-home’ whenever I wanted to vent and drink his sparkling champagne.

Today, though, I was there for other purposes. The kid should be thanking me for providing him with my expertise beyond my regular working hours.

Bag of chips in hand, I munched through Ho-Seok's vividly colourful PowerPoint presentation –an acid trip without the drug, if you will. I would spare you the details; the general gist was that they were going to meet for lunch in an exquisitely high-class restaurant, head over to the aquarium (“And whilst we walk through the dingy and dark tunnel with sharks, I’ll bump my hand into hers to test the waters. Did you like that? Did you? _Did you_!?”), end with dinner at the top of a skyscraper (“You fucker, I want a night-view for my next birthday dinner!”) and finally, conclude with ice-skating.

“Then,” He finishes, playing an animated gif of Kim Ji-Won and Park Seo-Joon's rather intimate kiss scene from ‘Fight My Way’. “If things turn out okay, I’ll be able to start my very first love story outside her apartment, underneath the stars, when I drop her off.”

“If you don’t stop saying cringy shit, I will very happily give you some stars to see.” Tossing the near-empty bag onto the coffee table, I brush the Cheetoh dust off my hands and sigh half-heartedly. “Your idea of a date is too rigid and structured, Seok; you’re planning way too many things when a first date should be casual and fun.”

“Care to explain?”

“Okay, first, which Korean drama were you binge-watching yesterday?”

“I was re-watching We Got Married.”

“Oh, my God.”

“I’m aware of your concerns but calling for the Lord is not going to help this situation, thank-you. Please explain.”

“It’s really self-explanatory, Seok. But,” I run my hand through my hair, smoothing my bangs back. “You meet her at noon for lunch. Fine. Cute, casual and a little flirty and you get to make good conversation.  I like that.  Then, you head off to the aquarium, which gives you both a chance to explore your childish sides and take some nice photos with the exhibits. Making memories – awesome! **_THAT_** ,” Slamming my fist against the table with a loud thud, Ho-Seok jumps in his chair. “Is when you should say good-bye. You don’t take her out to dinner, and then off to a skating rink. It’s **_exhausting_** for a first date!”

Ho-Seok has his hands up, cowering. “C-can I at least just say one teensy thing?”

Picking up the bag of chips, I jam a few more Cheetohs in my mouth and mumble, “Vhat?”

“I mean, **_technically_** ,” Ho-Seok begins slowly, chewing on the tip of his stylus. “I was also planning bits and pieces of this with **_you_** in mind.”

His words catch me slightly off guard.

I need to abort mission right now.

“N-No, you shouldn’t!” I stutter, flustered and hot. “Okay, important question:  _Why_ are you even doing that?!”

“Because – because, this date –“

“ _Pseudo_ -date!”

“Whatever! Since I’m taking you out on this quote unquote ‘pseudo-date’, I realize that I should at least fulfill the requirements of it, doing activities that I know you enjoy. It shouldn’t just be like a regular hang-out,” He explains with a rosy-pink blush. “FYI, Hwan, you’re not that special. I’ll be doing the same thing for Ji-Soo once she replies my message.”

Most of his words go in one ear and out the other, aside from one thing.  “When in the _fuck_ did I ever mention I liked skating?”

“Fourth grade, Winter vacation!” Reaching his arm across the table, he picks up a photo frame and thrusts it into my face. And there it was – chunky nine-year-old me, sitting on the bleachers with a pair of yellowing skates with the smiley youngster beside me, holding up a peace sign.

“I can’t believe you have this shit framed.”

“You slipped and fell at least a dozen times that day until I asked for a practice chair,” He replies nonchalantly, shutting off his laptop. “Of _course_ , I have to keep this as a memento of your rare failures.”

Ugh, I knew his heartfelt action was too good to be true.   

It took some coaxing, but eventually, Ho-Seok agreed that spending eight hours with Ji-Soo as a first date wasn’t feasible – even if it was planned on a Saturday.  However, since I was such a good friend to him and did want to see him successful in his dating ventures, I _guess_ hanging out with him for a full day wouldn’t be too bad.

Plus, if it meant I got to critique the shit out of him at the end, it’s a win-win situation for me overall. So long as he didn’t practice his dumb pick-up lines and corny jokes on me, then I should be able to stomach my food just fine.

Just before I leave his apartment, I ask as a confirmation, “So, Seok, what have we agreed on?”

He rolls his eyes, hurling a pillow in my direction. “I’ll stop streaming Jo Kwon and Ga-In’s segments for date ideas.”

“ ** _Very good_** , Seok! I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early!”

Yet, even though my words were laced with sarcasm, there was no denying the hints of excitement that continued to make my heart twinge even after I boarded the bus some twenty minutes later.

I tell myself that it was nothing.  If anything, it was most probably just heartburn from eating too many Cheetohs in one sitting.

 


	2. Date - i.

Out of all the girls within my social circle, Kim Ye-Rim was the one I went to for make-up, beauty and fashion advice.  She was naturally pretty and feminine with minimal make-up, but when she played up her best features (Namely, her lips and her eyes), she was able to look luxurious and elegant with dark, smoky eyeliner and a swipe of maroon lipstick. Her style was just as versatile as her face, capable of taking on whatever was thrown to her. So, who better to consult than the fashionista?  

Aside from that, she was also the only one that my beloved cat, Melonpan, would never scratch. So, here I was, standing in front of the mirror with two outfits selected by the younger woman as she sat on my bed with Melonpan prodding her ankle for attention.

She hoists him onto her lap, a triumphant smug on her pretty face as I slip out of my tank top and pull the blouse on. “I love how he calls dating you a practice. Practice, my _fucking_ ass.”

Whenever Ye-Rim used that infamous condescending tone of hers, I knew that she had something not too nice to say. In this case, her jab was most probably directed at Ho-Seok. But the thing was, as cut-throat and savage she could be at times, I’ve gotten used to it over the three-year course of our friendship. Undoubtedly, I should be able to take on whatever words of wisdom she had for me.

“Shading us, Ye-Rim?”

“Not at all,” She sings, her eyes twinkling delightfully. I groan inwardly; she might as well just have not said anything at all, God damnit.

“You know, Yerm.” I fasten my earrings on, glancing at her reflection through my wall mirror. “If you have something to say, you’d best say it now.”

Ye-Rim purses her lips together into a sarcastic, knowing pout.  “I don’t know! I’m an optimist, _unni_.  I hope to see it unfold nicely without me interfering.” Whatever this ‘ _it_ ’ was, I didn’t know if I wanted to find out what it was just yet. I didn’t need ‘it’ to ruin my mood.

Suddenly, she gets up and clasps her hands together excitedly once I belt the skirt over my shirt; Melonpan makes a dramatic leap off my bed and onto the floor, snuggling against my leg. “Give me a twirl, _unni_!” Taking my hand in hers, she spins me around and laughs amusedly. Even I couldn’t help but giggle.

“You did well. I look – “ The skirt was something Ye-Rim pulled from her own closet. The blouse, she proclaimed, was something she dug from the bottom of my dresser that still had the tags attached. Honestly, I don’t even remember purchasing this but eh. “Pretty.”

“You’re always pretty,” She states matter-of-factly, dismissing my flushed face with a wave of her hand. “It’s just that nursing is a job that puts pretty as the last priority.”

Smiling widely, she brushes lint off the pleats. “A fine job, if I do say so myself."

“This is way beyond what I normally wear to our hang-outs.”

“Well, this time around, he’ll be surprised. I can’t wait to hear what he says!”

Right on cue, the doorbell to my apartment rings. And when I open the door to welcome him in, the white t-shirt and jeans-clad Ho-Seok staggers back a few steps, a hand covering his mouth in – shock, or God knows what. I’ve never really dolled myself up or styled myself to impress him (There was never a need to, anyway) – he’s seen me dressed as a _pumpkin_ , for crying out loud.

But today, the overall mood of our hang-out was somewhat different.

And if he asked for a date, you bet your ass I was going to give him one.

I dramatically twirl in front of him, enjoying how free my legs felt when not constricted by the tightness of skinny jeans. “How do you do, Jung Ho-Seok? Thank-you very much for the opportunity to join you on a date today. I am highly honoured.” I was the self-proclaimed Queen of Extra-ness and Grandeur, so obviously, I had to bow with a slight bend to my knee with a small curtsy.

“Well, this is a change from your uh,” He comments, eyeing my casual look up and down non-stop. “Usual get-up. I’ve never seen you in skirts or – hey, I got you this! It fits you to a tee!” He tugs on the sleeve of my puffy blouse. “And,” He touches my braid. “Why don’t you regularly tie your hair like this?”

“Ho-Seok. I wake up at five in the morning to get to the hospital for work.” Putting my dirty dishes into the sink for later, I quickly pick up my bag and select a pair of shoes to put on. “I refuse to waste precious time doing an elaborate knot for my hair when I could be caring for my patients and giving Joo-Hyun _unni_ some shut-eye after working a twelve-hour shift.”

“I mean, you did it for me!”  What was _with_ that accusatory tone?

I shake my head and laugh. “And like you said yesterday, if we’re going to make this a pseudo-date, might as well go all the way.”

“Actually.” Ye-Rim emerges from my bedroom with Melonpan cradled comfortably in her arms, acknowledging Ho-Seok with a brief smile. “She asked me to come help her pick out an outfit. The girl really puts in her one hundred and ten percent for ya!”

“Ye-Rimmie!” He calls out, a little hysterical and a little breathless. “You’re here!”

“Yes, I am. It’s nice to see you, too, _oppa_. And – “ She pauses, eyes squinted and brows creased. “Why are you turning so red? _Unni_ , did you turn the thermostat up too high again?”

“Uh, no?” The monitor read a comfortable twenty degrees, yet Ho-Seok looked like he was on the verge of dry-heaving and hyperventilating. “What is **_WITH_** you? Is it the skirt? Are you not used to it?” I glance down at my attire, suddenly self-conscious. “Is it too much?”

“N-no!  You look…great! **_Terrific_**!” He emphasizes on the last few syllables with overwhelming force, spraying spit everywhere – my powdered face included.

“...Dirty water.” I frown, dabbing at the small droplets with my finger. “But, thank-you, anyway, even though your flattery will get you nowhere Save all that charm for Ji-Soo Ye-Rimmie, do you mind locking the door behind us?”

“Of course not!”  We step out into the hallway, but we’ve barely made it to the elevator when we end up hearing her holler, “Have a fun date, Wen-Seok!”

Normally, comments like that wouldn’t have fazed either of us. My generic response was to just laugh it off. Ho-Seok, on the other hand, looks like he wants to bury himself five feet underneath the ground and stay there.

“You okay?”

“U-um, yes, fine!”  

“…I have never heard your voice this high-pitched, before. Oh, wait, I remember now! _Just_ before you hit puberty!”

“Shut **_up_**!”

* * *

 

Ho-Seok was one of those kids that grew up with huge birthday parties up until he was thirteen (Or fourteen – fifteen was when he started hosting lame house parties): Themed group visits to the aquarium or the zoo, amusement parks, Laser tagging, paintballing, ice skating, bowling, arcades. Whatever type of group activity existed, I’m sure we did it at least once.

Not surprisingly, paintball was my least favourite since all Ho-Seok fucking did was chase me around in his camo-patterned gear and shoot me from behind while screaming hysterically). On the other hand, I thoroughly enjoyed the times when I owned his ass in video games and air hockey (A personal favourite of mine, since I shot him in the crotch once) and left him in the dust.

So, much to his annoyance, I told him I wanted to go to the arcade to reminisce about our high school memories of skipping math and science in favour of blown-up zombies. But I have to remind myself that I’m partaking in this practice date as a favour to Ho-Seok, and as much as I wanted to humiliate him in front of those hormonal, sweaty teenagers, I’ll play fair and square and won’t embarrass him.

For once.

“Are you _sure_ you won’t?” The poor boy must’ve been really traumatized.

“No guarantee, Seok,” I tease, my wallet jostling with coins waiting to be used up. “But sure, I’ll _try_ to fail so you can walk away with some dignity.”

Man, walking in here _really_ brings back some sweet childhood memories for me. During those beautiful moments of teenage angst (You know, self-loathing and disregarding all rules and responsibilities), Ho-Seok always took me here to unleash my worries and anxieties. Don’t get me wrong, he _still_ sucked shit at arcade games, but the fact that he never failed to buy my tokens or snacks for us, and barely batted an eyelash when he wasted a ton of money on the Pokémon gacha machine so I could go home with a plastic figurine I coveted – gosh, no wonder my classmates questioned why WenSeok never happened back then.

“What are you thinking about?”

“We should’ve worn our high school uniforms to make this pseudo-date complete.” Smiling, I add sweetly, “A nice trip down memory lane, if you will.” 

“Oh, I know why,” He chortles jovially, adjusting his snapback. “So, you can be your seventeen-year-old moody self again, huh? Don’t you worry about a thing, Wen-Wen.” He pats the front pocket of his jeans. “It’s on me today. Oh, **_LOOK_**!” 

Suddenly distracted, he scurries over to the PunchBoxer machine, crowded with a group of high school boys. One of them – a tiny, bright-eyed teenager – delivers a seemingly powerful uppercut into the brown punching bag, blowing into his knuckles soon afterward. A row of numbers soon pops up in a shade of fluorescent red:  1124.

Considering that the highest score was 3000, I’d say that his ‘punch’ (If you could even call it that) was subpar at best. But since I had no need to sugar-coat my words, I mutter, “My mother could hit harder than that.”

“Don’t laugh!” He warns his giggly friends in a furious, angsty bellow. “I just need some more practice!”

“Really, now?” A gangly, freckled boy taunts. “Well, I bet you today’s bubble tea that you can’t beat this _hyung_ over here.” I avert my gaze to where he was gesturing towards, only to choke on my spit when I realized it was –

“Alright, alright, boys.” Ho-Seok’s posture literally screamed cockiness – something that I haven’t seen since high school. And to see this persona of arrogance re-emerge from the depths was…startling, to say the least. “It’s time to step aside and watch the _real_ pro at work.”

I raise a suspicious eyebrow at him, crossing my arms against my chest. “Seok. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” One part of me was concerned that the dumb kid might accidentally injure himself while punching an immobile bag, and the other – well, if he lost to that high schooler, worst case scenario, his inflated ego might crumble to the point of no return. And of course, we didn’t want that happening before his first official date.  

“Nah, Wen-Wen. Don’t worry about it. I got this under control. Just stand back,” Flashing a conceited smirk in my direction, he blusters proudly, “Watch me do my thang, honey.” Wow, typical overcompetitive Ho-Seok behaviour:  Tons of bluffing.

“Your _thang_ is non-existent – “

Hold up.

Does dim fluorescent lighting turn people into The Hulk? No, no, of course, it doesn’t. I’ve seen the movie.

So, someone, please oh please, tell me _why_ Ho-Seok’s flabby limbs no longer looked lanky and thin. Rather, the purplish and blue tinge seemed to have accentuated never-before-seen defined musculature in his upper arms that was hiding underneath his t-shirt sleeve.

Granted, I could just be blind and observing him through (literal) purple-tinted glasses. The atmosphere in arcades sometimes renders one incapable of properly evaluating someone’s physique.

But, still. There was no mistaking the marked definition that Ho-Seok had been concealing behind his hoodies and sweatshirts, starting from the impressive vascularity in his arms to his broad shoulders.

Gulping, I stammer, “Seok, have you – have you been exercising recently?”

Turning his head slightly with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, he asks, “You like what you see, eh?”

 _Ugh._ “My eyeballs are going to roll into the back of my skull if you don’t stop talking like that.”

He’s not lying, though. I _did_ have a thing for well-toned arms. And Ho-Seok, well – he wasn’t exactly my ideal, but I’d still give his effort at least an A-. I start to wonder if Ji-Soo has an ideal body type that she prefers. Is she the skinny-fat type? Or perhaps, she would gravitate towards someone like Ho-Seok, who wasn’t thin in a frail, sickly way yet still healthily muscular?

I’m not sure why, but the question raises an alarming sense of uneasiness in the pit of my stomach.

“Hey, you’re one to talk,” He retorts. “You had a crush on Chanyeol- _sunbaenim._ Now _,_ he had the veiniest arms and calves I had ever seen.”

“How is it that you know virtually everything I said from eleven years ago?!”

Ho-Seok doesn’t reply me; the machine prompts him to make his hit with flashy yellow and white lights and cheesy sound effects, and with the crowd of high school boys hyping him up with their hollers and cheers, I watch amusedly as his clenched fist strikes the punching bag with power equivalent to a blue belt –

...Only to have it recoil back from the impact and hit poor, unsuspecting Ho-Seok in the head. 

And all spectators – me included – bursts out into horrendously loud laughter, drawing attention from everyone within earshot.

“ ** _AISH_** ,” Ho-Seok stumbles about, clutching his bruised forehead. “ ** _AH-OW_**!”

“But _hyung_ , you did well!” The freckled teenager slaps Ho-Seok in the shoulder enthusiastically. “Look at that! You overpassed 3000 points! Your sacrifice was worth it!” 

“But unfortunately,” I chime in with a snicker, interlocking my arm with Ho-Seok's to keep him from flailing around like a fish on land. “Your very talented and clumsy _hyung-nim_ now has a bruise. C’mon, Seok, let me see that.” I gently pry his hands away from his face, and he jerks back when I prod the purplish lump.

“Oh, you’re bleeding.” Sighing, I reach into my bag, fishing for my pouch of emergency supplies. “Hold on.”

Wincing slightly, he peeks one curious eye open. “You brought your first aid kit, huh?”

“I’m a nurse. What do you expect? And, there we go! Good as new! Sorry, uh.” Maybe sticking the pink unicorn on his face _wasn’t_ ideal. “I don’t have regular bandages.”

But he’s a good-looking guy. And good-looking guys are guaranteed to pull off the most ridiculous items with flair.

The freckle-faced teen suddenly sighs admiringly. “I want a pretty girlfriend to put bandages on me, too.”

“Not my boyfriend,” I clarify frigidly, Ho-Seok following suit with hasty nodding. “We are just – friends.”

“ _Noona_ , take it from me and my extensive dating history. No friend does that!” The teen soon leaves afterward to regroup with his friends for a Mario Kart race, leaving Ho-Seok particularly flabbergasted.

“Is that true?” He questions demandingly.

“If we’re going by his book, then that must mean I’m having an affair with all of my patients that I put gauzes on,” I snipe. “Seok, c’mon. Let’s be real. He’s only seventeen. Unless his dating history goes way, way back before he was even born, I highly doubt he’s the most accurate resource out there.”

Tugging on his arm, I say, “Come on, let’s play some more! We’re wasting time!”

“Um. Yeah…right.”

* * *

 

Tekken x Street Fighter was a video game franchise that Ho-Seok and I grew up on – and subsequently, one amongst many that I managed to pulverize him in. But I’ll give credit where it’s due:  Ho-Seok did have a role – no matter how minuscule it may be – in improving my button-smashing skills.

Look, these things need to be _honed_ and developed over time, you know!

“Alright, Seok.” Cracking my knuckles, I turn my attention to his character selection screen. As indecisive as he was sometimes, sixty seconds on the clock should be enough time. “Pick your poison.”

He wastes no time in maneuvering the joystick to a 2D animation of the disproportionate protagonist of the series, Ryu. “You know, I’m going to go with my homeboy. I practiced his moves last night after you left. But really, look at _him_.” Biting his lower lip, he croons, “Damn. Within five years after I gain more muscle, I’ll put a photo of him on my Instagram and hashtag it as me.”

“Let me get this straight, you’re going to _Hadouken_ me out of your house whenever I drink too much of your wine?”

“Of course not,” He chuckles. “You’ll just Spinning-Bird-Kick me.”

I smirk. Ho-Seok knew me too well. “I guess I’ll go for Chun-Li – “

“Ayo, she been off,” Ho-Seok cuts me off with Nicki Minaj, bopping his head to an invisible beat. “Lara been croft, plates say Chun-Li...“

“…Drop the Benz off, ay!” I finish with finesse (Reference clearly intentional), returning his raised palm with a high-five.  

“Ay, that's my girl right here.”

If I wasn’t twenty-eight and capable of withstanding his occasional sweet-talking every now and then, I most likely would’ve cringed and smacked him in the arm.

But today, I felt my cheeks flush pink when he shoots me his delightful grin and ruffles my hair. I’m not sure why that is. Maybe because we labelled our day together as a ‘date’ – but really now, the connotations of our little inside jokes shouldn’t be changing.   

“Honestly, no offense to Joon,” He continues. “But you’re the only one that can finish off my random outbursts of rap.”

“W-What are you talking about? Nam-Joonie indulges you in the exact same way, just with different songs. He’s more of a,” My voice lowers to a crackled, inconsistent tenor. “‘ _Kiki, do you love me_ ’? type.”

“Yeah, but,” Ho-Seok purses his lips together, deep in thought. “Different vibes, ya feel me?”

Grimacing, I shake my head, redirecting my attention back to the now blackened screen. “I’d um, much rather not.”

A few long pauses later, vibrant pixels reappear in the form of our selected characters. Chun-Li was clearly distinguishable with her trademark hair buns and blue _qipao_. But Ho-Seok –

Literally explodes when his presumed Ryu was...somehow replaced with a brown jumping mammal.

“ ** _YAH_**! WHY AM I THE DANG KANGAROO?!” Ho-Seok shrieks explosively, pointing a shaking finger at the screen during the brief character introduction. “ROGER ** _JUNIOR_**? I DON’T WANT TO BE A...”

Cue dramatic pause and intense squinting.

“TRANS...TRANSGENIC MILITARY KANGAROO (What on Earth is that, Jesus Christ).”

I swear to God, by the end of today, I’m going to become poorer, older and deafer.

* * *

 

Ho-Seok doesn’t do gore. Doesn’t, can’t - either applies. His body simply isn’t capable of dealing with knives, chainsaws, and guts. Plus, he screams at the slightest jump scare.

Through a mouthful of popcorn and soda, he mumbles, “Don’t kill me for saying this, alright, but I actually never realized that a girl’s backside _while_ holding a plastic toy could look so dang attractive.”

But apparently, when _I’m_ the one firing 2D bullets and throwing grenades at flesh-eating zombies with my imaginary sniper rifle (Like now), he’s totally chill and relaxed. His mind works in the strangest of ways, but not that I care because this just meant I didn’t have to compete with another player for the highest rank on the latest release, ‘Scarlet Dawn’. 

“Finally realized, huh?” I tilt the plastic gun to the side to replenish my ammo. “Don’t say that when you’re in an actual relationship, though. That’s all I’m going to say.”

“Oh, I know, I know,” He say airily. “But I mean, I do have to practice flirting too, don’t I?”

Scoffing, I snap irritably, “You little shithead.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘ _I did good_ ’.”

“Yeah, you like that?” Red streaks flash across the screen, indicating heavy damage to my character. Sighing, I say, “Well, I’m only down to one life. I guess I’ll show you one more time. Watch closely.” Aiming the gun at an attacking zombie that was flinging axes with deadly accuracy, I press the trigger several times, grinning in satisfaction when I hear Ho-Seok yell, “ **BOOM**! HEADSHOT!”

“Got it, Seok?” I set the plastic gun back into the slot. “Now, _that_ is a proper headshot.”

“Damn. You’re sick.”

My ears perk up.  Because that wasn’t Ho-Seok. No, not at all.

Standing next to us (Was he just spying on us? Holy fuck), a rather attractive young man with a side-swept undercut acknowledges the both of us (But primarily me, based on his body language) with a small nod. He doesn’t look that much younger; maybe two years or so? “I like me a woman who can shoot.” Peering precariously behind him, I spot a couple of his friends hang around the claw machines – but really, who were they fooling?

“It’s all virtual, but thanks. If zombie outbreaks do happen sometime in the next fifty years though, you know who to call.”

Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. Shit, shit, shit. Fuck me and my big mouth; it just invites him in for further conversation.

“Well, how do I call if I don’t have your number? Nice to meet you, I’m Johnny.” He holds his hand outward for a handshake expectantly. I’m not surprised in the slightest that he completely ignored Ho-Seok, even though he was standing literally three centimetres away from me.

I hate to admit it, but God damn, was this Johnny smooth with his words, and slick with his flirting. And with his leather jacket and dark denim ensemble, he looked like he belonged within the pages of ‘To All The Boys I Loved Before’.   

But of course, I’m not that easily swayed by a Korean Peter Kavinsky wannabe. Instead, I bow my head slightly and shuffle backward as discreetly as possible. “Wendy.”

“And I’m Ho-Seok,” He chimes in enthusiastically, shaking Johnny’s hand – or, if more accurate, squeezing the life out of the younger man.

“A pleasure.” I couldn’t help but stifle a snigger; his voice expressed no such thing. Johnny scratches the back of his head uneasily after wringing it out of Ho-Seok’s vice-like grip. “Alright, I’ll be honest,” A chuckle escapes his throat in a deep rumble. “I thought you were really pretty and wanted to introduce myself.”    

“If you said that at first instead of your pick-up line, I probably would’ve considered it,” I reply coolly, indifferent. “Thank-you, anyway.”

“Mind if I give it another shot?”

Oh, my **_GOD_**.  No wonder it’s so difficult being a woman in the 21 st century. “And I swear, I won’t make any cheesy remarks about your gaming skills either.”

Before I could say anything else, Ho-Seok suddenly pipes up beside me. “Sorry to interrupt, but really, I think Wendy made herself very clear.” See, Ho-Seok rarely ever loses his temper unless something was _really_ aggravating him. But judging from the veins that were starting to pop up on the sides of his neck, let’s just say Johnny was really pushing his patience thin. “Johnny- _sshi_ , I think it’s best that we leave it at that.” 

“You’re not her boyfriend.” Any traces of fake friendliness disappear altogether, and if my eyes weren’t deceiving me, Johnny’s cronies were now edging towards us, probably to provide physical “back-up” in case things went awry. Is it terrible to say that I wasn’t really concerned about a couple of well-dressed punks?

“I’m not,” He admits aggressively. “But I am her friend. And as her friend, I think it’s my responsibility to keep her safe when someone is causing her clear discomfort, no?”

“She never _said_ she was uncomfortable.”

Johnny. Please. For the love of God and all things holy, take a hint.

“There’s a thing called common sense – ”

“Well, then, how about this?” I interrupt abruptly. “If you’re just _dying_ to get my number, we’ll play a little shoot-out.” I tap the control panel, face smug. “Just the two of us. If I win, you leave us alone. No harm done. If you win, I’ll give it to you.”

Johnny runs a hand through his hair. “Rather high and mighty of you to willingly put your phone number on the line as a grand prize.” He bites his lower lip, eyes flashing dangerously. “Feisty. I like that, but I already know you’re a good shot, so I’d rather play against your friend right here.”

“My friend’s got a name, jackass – ” I clip back.

“I’m cool with that,” Ho-Seok agrees loudly, brushing past me to pick up the gun that I used before with Johnny following suit with the second controller.

“But, Seok, you don’t play - “ He raises a finger against my lips, shushing me.

“Juuuuust trust me.”

I just want to say that the carefree drawling in his voice doesn’t really help much, but alright. “Ugh, I can’t watch this. I’m going to get second-hand embarrassment.” Partial truth, by the way; I was mainly concerned with Ho-Seok’s impending nightmares when he goes to sleep later that night.  

“You shouldn’t look at me so lowly.” Ho-Seok growls back when the cutscene for Chapter 0 begins.

From the corner of my eye, Johnny leers mockingly at Ho-Seok, seemingly confident that he was going to win. “Whoever gets the highest points after the first chapter wins, correct?”

Ho-Seok only tightens his grip on the controller, muttering darkly, “Do your worst.”

“Since when – “ My question is cut short once the game officially begins, and I unconsciously start to gnaw on the sleeve of my blouse as the first hoard of zombies appear, dragging their feet across the floor.

Johnny’s clearly played before, judging by how steady and accurate his aim was. But Ho-Seok…

Wow; continues to surprise me, even until now.

He’s a brave contender, this boy is, leaving no zombie unfinished by aiming his bullets straight to the head. He may have flinched slightly at the weak jump scares every now and then, but honestly, I expected worse from him.

Wherever there were hidden coin bonuses, he hit them all in one shot. When the screen flashed a message indicating a ten-second shoot-out challenge, he knew _exactly_ where to aim so his character wouldn’t be subjected to injury. And even in those rare circumstances where Johnny’s sprite was knocked down to the ground (Which was surprisingly quite often for a supposedly seasoned player), he came to his assistance right away – even though he didn’t technically have to help him.

And dare I say it, Ho-Seok with a gun (Even if it is a plastic toy and incapable of any bodily damage) is attractive.

Or, put it this way, Ho-Seok himself is already delightfully charismatic. With a gun, even more so.

(God damnit, Wendy, now is not the time).

“ _Let’s head outside!_ ”

With the chapter coming to an end, neither Johnny’s friends or I could pinpoint their exact score. Maybe they were neck-to-neck right now?

“Seok, be careful!” I suddenly scream as their characters dash out into the garden; Johnny’s friends stared at me in pure amazement. “Watch out for the axes!”

“Wen-Wen, calm down. It’s just VR.” Ho-Seok replies amusedly, lips upturned.

“I _knew_ that! It’s just – oh, oh, and the fat dudes are coming too!”

“Annnd, I’m on it!”

Ho-Seok delivers the final bullet into the last zombie, and the ending cutscene plays out, transitioning quickly for the results.

Johnny violently throws his controller back into the slot, stuffing his hands into his pockets sulkily. “I knew I should’ve played as the hot girl. Damn.”

Shockingly enough, Ho-Seok won. By five points. I don’t care what anybody says – I need to take a photo to commemorate this day.

“Well, now,” He says. “I guess my FPS skills have been put to good use.”

“I’m a man of my word.” Johnny has displeasure written all over his face – but I can’t blame him in the slightest. He just got owned by a complete newbie. “So, GG, buddy. No hard feelings?”

“None.” Ho-Seok agrees firmly, jaw twitching when he turns his attention to the younger man. “But, a bet is a bet. So please, excuse yourself out.”

And once they do – Johnny hanging his head in shame as his friends jeered at him for his failed attempt to impress a girl – Ho-Seok lets out a low whistle, rubbing his forehead with trembling hands. “God, I’m _so_ glad I won. That was _horrible_! Did you see all that blood? And-and the way that they all exploded after you shot them down? And how the big, ugly fat ones kept attacking with the chainsaw!” He shudders, turning his back towards the screen with a curt shake of his head. “Never again am I playing that, even if it’s for you.”

“You said you didn’t play these!” I accuse as he steps off the platform.

“I don’t!” He nods in affirmation. “But like I said, I _like_ watching people play.” Smirking smugly, he adds, “I pick up on your play pattern fairly quickly.”

“Did you just say…’play pattern’?”

“I’m an engineer, yo. Analyzing shit is what I do for a living.”

“You _creep_.”

“Hey,” He pokes my cheek. “I saved you from getting hassled by Johnny now, right?”  

“You didn’t have to do that, though.” I squeeze his forearm gently, and I feel his tension slowly dissipate away.

“Why not? While I would say I was kind of doing this to show him up, he had it coming.” He glares at Johnny’s retreating backside just as they leave the arcade. “Being pushy and forthright with you. I saw you edging yourself away from him,” He points out, rubbing my shoulder comfortingly. “Guys like him don’t know boundaries. And plus – “ He pauses for a moment before confessing, face flushed, “Alright. I’m just going to come out and say it. I don’t _really_ like it when guys hit on you.”

I tilt my head to the side, confused. “Why’s that?”

“Cringe? Uncomfortableness? I don’t know the exact reason why. I guess,” He scratches the back of his head. “Whoever dates you, I just want to make sure that they’re a good person. Johnny didn’t seem like one.”

He looked as if he had more to say – and I wanted him to say it. But considering that he was now glancing at anything else but me, I decide to end the topic at hand with a grateful thanks. “Thanks for looking out for me, Seok, but y’know? You can’t protect me forever.”

“Well,” Ho-Seok laughs. “I’ll do so until I’m no longer needed.”

Damn. For such an inexperienced guy, he sure knew how to flirt. How is he capable of saying these things without feeling flustered? I don’t know whether this was intentional simply because he was comfortable with me, or if he really labelled himself as my ‘Sentinel for Bad Men’. Either way, my heart was still thrashing hard – and I don’t think it was ceasing any time soon.

As an attempt to keep my mind away from his words, I snap, “I had a fake number in mind, too!”

“382-5968?”

“How’d you know?!”

“Duh,” He tuts. “It spells out ‘ _fuck you_ ’. I’m dim Wen-Wen, but I’m not that dim.”

* * *

 

“GIVE ME. THAT. **_DAMN_**. PIKACHU.”

Ho-Seok and I used to be huge fans of Pokémon. He liked Charmander, I liked Squirtle. Didn’t really like Bulbasaur much, but guaranteed, we both adored Pikachu.

Which is why, when we passed by the never-ending hallway of claw machines and saw one stuffed to the brim with a giant Pikachu stuffy, we had to win one together. It wasn’t even like a ‘ _Oh, we can give it a few tries, and we’ll quit if we waste too much money_ ’.

It’s a necessity.

“How much money do you have left?”

“Uh,” Peering precariously into my coin pouch, I mumble, “Well, I only have like a two one-thousand-dollar bills left.”

Clawing at the glass, he presses his cheek up against the surface, crying miserably, “I want one. I _really_ want one. Why are we struggling so much today? Normally, we would’ve gotten this within like five tries. This is our tenth – ” Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he emphasizes dramatically, “ ** _TENTH_**.”

“Now, now, Ho-Seok,” I begin, tugging on his arm to drag him away (Unsuccessfully so). “We don’t exactly have to – “

“NO,” He shouts determinedly. “We **_MUST_**! We made a declaration before we came in here that we were going to leave with a prize! It’s tradition! Alright, you know what?!” He suddenly splutters, rocking the heavy machine back and forth with both arms. I watch alarmingly as a small spark releases from the plug. “I’m going to buy this machine. I don’t give a shit what anybody says.”

Right at that moment, an arcade attendant walks past us with a bored expression on his face. Ho-Seok haughtily pokes him on the shoulder.  

“Hey, there.” I snort. Very friendly. “I want that Pikachu.”

“Don’t be so demanding.” I slap his stomach with the back of my hand. “He’s just trying to do his job!”

The attendant glances at the Pikachu that was lying face-flat ten centimetres away from the dispensing chute. “I can move the Pikachu if you want.” He offers.

Rolling his eyes, Ho-Seok moans, “Look, buddy. I’ve already wasted like thirty dollars on this.”

If we were really thinking about this from a business perspective, that’s exactly the point of these crane games and technically, complaining would’ve accomplished nothing. But at this point where Ho-Seok wanted nothing more than to have the Pikachu in his arms, logic and sense is just going to go in one ear and out the other.

“A fair amount, sure.”

“But I’d like to propose an alternative.” Pausing, Ho-Seok gestures to the empty Dance Dance Revolution machine tucked away in the corner next to the Taiko drum set. “If I get the high score for Very, Very, Very on the most difficult mode, I’d like that Pikachu.”

“Look, buddy, all I do is work here and frankly, I don’t give a shit. But,” The attendant glances at me, then back at Ho-Seok. “Whatever it takes to make your girl happy, I suppose. Fine. If you can top the high score, take a photo and show it to me at the counter and I’ll give you the Pikachu.”

Ho-Seok grins blissfully as he steps onto the shimmering dance pad. Already, he was capturing the attention of a few spectators. “Isn’t this _great_?”

“What?” I question, leaning against the support bar. Ho-Seok inserts the remainder of his money into the machine, stepping on the right directional arrow to select his song. “When they think we’re dating, or that you abused a loophole?”

“I talked my way out of spending excessive money!”

“That is,” I deadpan. “What a loophole is, Seok.”

Ignoring me, he clasps his hands together, preparing himself for the first few steps. “Yo boy is going to own this shit. I mean, I’m already a dancer. C’mon. How difficult can DDR be?”

“I wouldn’t think so,” I warn. “Remember how you almost fell off when we came here last time? You were doing APINK’s No No No; almost twisted your ankle.”

“Just trying to wiggle my ass like they did in the video.”

The music video starts to play with the familiar white and yellow hallway and the eleven girls from Produce 101. I liked I.O.I.’s songs; I really did. And I had a huge girl crush on Do-Yeon. But when you pair their fast-paced bubblegum pop with incredibly quick steps, well, it frightens me out of my wits.

As Ho-Seok wraps his hands around the support bar behind him, I advise kindly, “Please. Oh, please. Do yourself a favour, and do _not_ get distracted by Somi’s adorable _aegyo_ , alright?”

“Pinky’s more of my type really, but aight.” The melody begins with the rhythmic clapping and JYP’s infamous introduction behind the catchy 8bit-like beat. “WEN-WEN, COME ON!” Ho-Seok bellows eagerly, quickly stepping onto the flashing directional arrows. “SING WITH ME!”  

It wasn’t a request; it was a demand. But, why not?

“ _FINALLY_.”

“ _Y’ALL READY?_ ”

Unlike amateur players of the game, Ho-Seok wasn’t just a sight-reader for the arrows. His feet were literally _flying_ off the pad with incredible agility and precision; how he managed to continue singing in his high-pitched alto without catching his breath was beyond regular human aptitude.  “ _WHEN YOU LIKE ME, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY_ – “

“ _THEN, TELL ME!_ ”

Even the crowd was starting to hype up from Ho-Seok’s gusto and sing along. “ _WHEN YOU KEEP, KEEP, KEEP, KEEP, KEEP THINKING OF ME, THEN CALL ME!_ ” A minute into the song, it slows down to a more melancholic melody and slow rhythm, giving Ho-Seok some leisurely time to talk.

“So?” He asks. “What’d you think? Am I going to win?”

“Concentrate.”

“I was _born_ for this shit.” Then happily before the tempo kicked up again with the addictive chorus, he comments, “Maybe Ji-Soo likes someone who’s _real_ good at DDR?”

At the mere mention of Ji-Soo, my grin fades into a firm line and my voice falters into a quiet “Maybe”. The discomforting twinge in my stomach, it’s here again – only this time, it’s much more prevalent. As immature and crazy as it may sound (Especially coming from a full-grown woman), I start to contemplate whether I was starting to unconsciously label Ji-Soo as a potential threat, if you will.

But a threat for exactly _what_? That I would lose my best friend? That, after he starts to date, he’ll abandon me altogether?  I rub my forehead, exhausted. How paranoid was I? I wasn’t even Ho-Seok’s girlfriend – I was just a best friend, and I’m already left feeling incredibly jealous over a girl he hasn’t even met yet.

I’m too deep into my thoughts that I didn’t even notice that the crowd behind us were starting to dissipate now that he was finished his song. Waving his hand in front of my face to recapture my attention, I stutter, “H-huh?”

He doesn’t say anything; instead, he just points at the screen victoriously.

“I did it.”

Elated, I push my feelings out of my head and choke out a laugh. “Yes. Yes, you did.”

“And now,” He presents the stuffed Pikachu to me. “It’s all yours, my dear friend.”

“Thanks, Seok. Really.”

As we exit the arcade, taking in the fresh brisk air after four hours inside the stuffy cramped space, he asks with his hands resting behind his head, “Did you have fun today?”        

“Well, considering that you showed off some incredibly awesome gaming skills today, I’d say,” I nod appreciatively, holding up the stuffed animal next to my face. “A job well done, Seok. Job well done, indeed. I haven’t been this happy since I got an A+ in one of my courses last semester.”

“Yes, but,” He pauses before smiling warmly, “It’s my job to make you happy.”

Taken aback, I narrow my eyes at him. “Huh?”

“Siiiiiiiiiiiike.” I halt my tracks altogether as he continued down the block, my eyes never leaving his retreating backside.  

It’s weird.

We were always close, that’s a given. We enjoyed hanging out like this, and we loved each other’s company as platonic friends and companions. What others saw as signs of romantic feelings, I generally brushed it off as Ho-Seok being a genuinely nice person that loved hanging around people, just that he found greater comfort in me.

But today, it feels different.

He’s a lovely person with an even lovelier soul, make no mistake about that. But he seems more sensitive, more attentive to my needs than normal today. And maybe I’m still hazy from the dingy atmosphere of the arcade, but even I’m starting to muddy my mind into believing that maybe – just maybe – my friends’ intuitions were correct and that Ho-Seok did harbour feelings deeper than normal friendship – just that he managed to conceal it better.    

Noticing my lack of response, Ho-Seok whirls around and yells, “ _Yah_ , are you coming?”

“Yep!”

I quickly chase after him and have half the heart to tell him that he made my heart flutter – but realizing it clearly crosses the boundary between friends, I say nothing else other than ask him where he was taking me to grab dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wendy's starting to feel something :3 As for Hoseokkie - well, we'll just have to wait and see!  
> (Not really related, but) I had a LOT of fun writing this chapter, honestly such a walk down memory lane for me because my friend used to have birthday parties at arcades as well and these elementary school memories, well, you know, they kinda just stick with you even when you're an adult.  
> Next chapter coming fairly soon! ^^ Thanks for reading!


	3. Date - ii.

Ho-Seok let me pick where I wanted to go for dinner but considering that he already spent enough money as is at the arcade, I decided to give his wallet a break and suggested street food stalls in  _Hong-_ _Dae_. 

…But of course, Ho-Seok being his damning self, he wasn’t going to take no to fancy restaurants for an answer. 

“A date is a date.” He proclaims, smacking his chest proudly. “Even if it’s pseudo.” 

So here we are, ascending to the seventieth floor in one of the tallest skyscrapers in all of  _Gangnam_.  I’ve heard of this restaurant before; while it wasn’t  _super_  exclusive like other places around the area, rumours circulated around that this had raked in two Michelin stars, and frankly, I felt completely out of place like a fish on land when I stepped in.   

Here I was, wearing sneakers and a cute, almost childish-looking blouse (Something that I’ll never tell Ho-Seok, because it’ll hurt his feelings) when a woman sauntered past me in a tight black dress, clacking away in her high heels and long legs. I even caught her checking out Ho-Seok with hungry eyes, sneering at me disdainfully when she saw how ordinary I looked. He’s only in denim and a white fitted t-shirt, but like most designers say, it’s the aura of confidence that makes the clothes work – not the other way around. I wonder how Ji-Soo normally dresses? If she was a dentist, I would have imagined her in scrubs. But with a face like  _that_ , even the most hideous and ugliest-looking scrubs would look like Gucci on her.  

Ho-Seok gently pushes my back forward when a waiter bows towards us politely. Whispering in my ear against the smooth jazz that drifted dreamily through the spacious dining hall, he mumbles, “I know you might feel weirded out that I took you here, but don’t.” 

“It’s quite hard not to be when we’re –  _I’m_  under-dressed.” Ho-Seok pulls out my chair for me, and I sit down, adjusting it until my elbows could rest comfortably on the silk tablecloth, holding pristine silverware wrapped up with a tiny ribbon and a lit rose-scented candle, the tiny flame emitting off a warm glow. 

“Why are you so scared?” 

“Firstly, I am not scared. I don’t know if you happen to have eyes, Seok,” I hiss hotly, drumming my fingers impatiently against the table. “But people dining here look like they belong in a James Bond movie!” 

“And you look like you belong in a Nicholas Sparks book, which I prefer a lot more.” He replies cheerily, resting his chin on his palm.  Thank God it was dark; the romantic bluish hues from the ceiling lights managed to hide my unnecessary blushing. Maybe he should also stop with the compliments, too. “Just because people are dressed prim and proper doesn’t necessarily mean we have to fit in with the social norms. We’re here for food, not for,” Craning his neck, he tilts his head over to the busy and packed private room where we catch a glimpse of a young drunkard dancing on top of the table. “Creating a ruckus.” 

“Also,” He passes me a separate menu, and I glance up at him, fully attentive. “You better take that back.”     

“What back?” 

“The whole spiel about,” Clearing his throat, he squeaks mockingly, “’ _Never taking you to the top of a skyscraper_ ’.” 

“ _Yah_!”  

“Consider this your early birthday dinner.” 

“Nice try, buddy, but my birthday isn’t for another six months.” 

“Ah. Right.” He purses his lips together in a pout. “Then, happy twenty-eight and a half birthday!” 

He always has an excuse. Sometimes, abysmally ridiculous. Many times, just plain stupid.  But always,  _always_ , something that made my cheeks uplift and heart warm. 

As we skim through the rather expensive appetizers and entrees (I had my eye on the fried calamari and squash gnocchi), I say, “So, Ho-Seok, I’m just going to tell you now. Dinner and dessert is sort of that prime time when you’re supposed to get to know your date better.” Raising an eyebrow suspiciously, I ask, “What exactly are some moves that you know of at the dinner table?” 

He rolls his eyes at me. “Have I ever been on a date?” He snaps rhetorically. “No. I haven’t. Therefore, I literally have ‘ _no_ _moves_ ’.” 

Gosh, was I in for a long night.  

“Like,” He exclaims, brows creased in worry. “What do you even  _talk_  about during a first date? Past relationships?” 

“Seok, I’m going to stop you.  **RIGHT THERE**. There are several taboo topics that you should never discuss. Really, they’re just no-nos.” 

“Das no no?” 

I nod, dismissing his Show Me the Money reference. “Exactly.”  Holding up a clenched fist, I tick off with my fingers, “Past relationships.” 

“Which,” He interrupts pointedly. “I do not have.” 

“Fair enough. Second, an extension upon that, which is a little something known as sex.” I pause for a moment, adding with a grimace, “Unless you plan on going in that direction for a first date.” 

Ho-Seok returns my scowl with an equally deep frown of his own. “Kisses, I might’ve thought about it, but I wouldn’t even consider going that far for a first meeting.” Intrigued, he questions curiously, “People go to that length on a first date?!” It frightens me that Ho-Seok is still so chaste about dating, but maybe I can consider this a good thing. 

“Yes. Not that I would condemn you for wanting to try by the way. It’s a very normal thing that I’m sure you would be curious about. Just make sure when you do, use proper protection, alright?”    

Ho-Seok nods vigorously. “Of course, of course. I hear too many horror stories from you about your patients as is.” 

“And last but not least,” Even though an inkling tells me that I didn’t need to warn him about it, I decide to anyway. “Don’t ever talk about problems or fights with your family.” 

“ ** _HA_**! Well, jokes on you! I still call my mom and dad every night.” 

“Eh?” My mouth widens in surprise. “Da-Won  _unni_ , too?!” 

Just merely mentioning his sister’s name makes Ho-Seok beam, dimples showing and all. The genuine adoration he had for her makes my heart skip a beat. “Yep! We talk for hours, even though we probably talked for hours the day before, too. She misses you, by the way! She’s always asking how you are, what you’re up to.” 

“Seok, that’s so endearing.” 

“I know, right?  She cares more about you than her own brother.” 

“No, I mean...like, the fact that even when you’re twenty-eight, and even with how busy you are, you still make time to keep in touch with your family! If Ji-Soo was a family person at all, she’d be so impressed.” Lowering my voice, I murmur inaudibly so that he didn’t hear me, “It’s earning brownie points with me, too.” 

“Damn,” He chuckles as he raises his hand to flag down a passing waiter. “You know what’s really funny?” 

“What?” 

“If  _noona_  saw us together like this right now, she probably would’ve burst into tears.” 

“Why? We hang out all the time!”  

“Well, she always liked you a  _bit_  more. And she liked it even more when we were...” There was a certain glint in his eye when he said this. “ _Together_.” But it quickly disappears as soon as it showed up. Holding his hands up in the air, he adds flippantly, “That’s all I’m going to say.” 

My impending bombardment of questions is unfortunately cut short when the waiter arrives with a notepad in hand to take our orders. Ho-Seok orders the Kobe beef burger with a Sprite (Because of course, quote-unquote,  _‘he loves hamburgers and Sprite’_ ). 

“And could I have the – “ 

“Squash gnocchi and the fried calamari appetizer?” Ho-Seok cuts in kindly. “Oh, and if you can, would you be able to replace the cheese with an alternative vegetarian cheese, please? Almond cheese, if you have it.”  

The waiter returns Ho-Seok's request with a bow. “Of course, sir. We’ll have that ready for you right away.” Once he was out of earshot, I turn my attention back to Ho-Seok. “Are you sure you’re terrible at this dating stuff? Because that was  ** _clearly_**  a move.” 

“Huh? That was a move?” I can’t even tell if he’s serious or just seriously sarcastic anymore.  Maybe it’s better this way if I don’t overthink and take it as it is. 

Ho-Seok cracks the can open, dunking his straw into his drink. “I know you have a very unhealthy addiction to carbohydrates, so that was the only thing on the menu that seemed like your taste and also didn’t have dairy in it. Didn’t you say that you get an upset stomach after you consume dairy? Lactose...lactose - “ He squints his eyes tightly, attempting to recall the word. “It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t remember. Lactose cannot-keep-in-stomach-causing-belly-aches?” 

“Intolerance?” 

“Yeah!  _That_ _!_  However the hell you pronounce it, you should go get it checked!” 

“I find it  _very_  ironic that you’re telling the nurse herself to get a check-up done.” 

“Yes, I am,” He states huffily. “And regardless, you’re going to see your doctor before your semester begins. I’m coming, too! I want to learn more about this can’t-eat-dairy thingy.” 

Oh, my God. I’m fucking stunned. Can’t-eat-dairy. 

I repeat,  _can’t-eat-dairy thing_ y. I’m so offended that he just had to make it worse with the  _‘thingy’_. But still, I cut him some slack and giggle it off.  

Ho-Seok’s not much of a biology kid, and I didn’t expect him to be – because the way his mind works, his sense of inquisitiveness and how his unorthodox way of caring for others were just a small fraction of his charms that made Jung Ho-Seok…Jung Ho-Seok.    

I still need to ask him what his cryptic message about Da-Won  _unni_  meant, though. 

* * *

 

What I realized as the night progressed was that Ho-Seok isn’t a terribly bad player in the dating game after all. I wouldn’t give him an A+, but he was performing rather well for an amateur. Well, aside from a few moments where he just doesn’t seem to grasp a lady’s inner desires all too well and awkwardly blunders about. 

Such as when I was teaching him when it was appropriate to play footsie – and how to execute it properly without creeping Ji-Soo out.   

“You know what it is, right?” I ask with a mouthful of pasta. Damn, this shit was good. The sauce –  _s_ _o_  good, so  _rich_. Sighing contentedly, I let out a small moan of pleasure.  

“Uh,” Ho-Seok’s attempting to look everywhere else – except into my eyes. “A question before I answer you:  Did you just have an  _orgasm_  with your food?” 

I poke my fork into a piece, jabbing it close to his lips covered in crumbs and moist from aioli. “Can I help it? Food here be too bomb. Want to give it a try?” 

“You know I don’t like eating pas – “ I stuff it into his mouth, anyway. “Oh, shit. You’re right. This shit is  _hella_  good.” 

“See?” 

“Anyway, uh, yeah, I guess,” Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he snorts. “But really, it seems so simple. All you’re doing is just rubbing your shoe against the other person’s leg. Wait, on second thought.” He briefly lifts up the table cloth, peeking underneath before emerging a few seconds later, unable to hide his disgust.  

“Nope. I’m not letting you practice on me. These are my nice jeans. You wore your old-ass Converses today.” 

“Well-loved,” I correct sharply. “Old-ass is your work computer.” 

“Here. Let me try.” I had to put my fork down for this; if he kicks me on accident, who knows where my piece of pasta might end up? On second thought, maybe I should provide him with some guidance. Sliding deeper into my seat, I let out a large, pig-like guffaw when I see his boot shuffling around blindly.  

“Oh, I think I got it!” Of course, he did. He was now stroking the oak table leg up and down. “Damn, Wen-Wen. Your legs are quite uh – bony?” 

“Trying to get it on with the table, huh?” I tease, watching Ho-Seok suddenly retract his leg back in embarrassment. “Good choice going for wood.”  

“Yo, I’m  _really_  trying here.” He chews on his bottom lip, expression strained. “But it’s so much harder than I thought!”  

I stretch out my own leg by a few inches to help him out. “Edge your foot over to the right a little” 

“Uh, like that?” 

“Um, close but  _not_  close enough. A little more.”  

And without any warning, Ho-Seok’s foot bashes straight into my shin. What made it suck even more was the fact that he’s a street dancer. So, when you take the kick of a powerful performer with hard black leather, what do you end up with?  

A big stinkin’ purplish bruise, that’s what. 

“ _Yah_!” I screech, reaching down to massage my now-injured shin in pure agony. “Playing footsie doesn’t mean attacking the other person for the sake of crippling them! Don’t do that. You’re going to  _murder_  Ji-Soo.” 

“Well, I mean, you’re just practice after all – “ I throw a crumpled up napkin in his direction furiously, only for him to fend it off with his palm. “ _Yah_! Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” 

Or, when he decided to fiddle with his phone briefly when I was finishing up the last of the calamari.  

“Because it’s me that you’re on a date with, I don’t really give a shit,” I say. He glances up from the lit screen, confused. “But, Seok, this doesn’t just apply with dates – it’s whenever you’re out with friends, too. It’s incredibly rude to be on your phone while you’re on a date. Put that thing away when you’re with Ji-Soo tomorrow. It’ll leave a poor taste in her mouth.”  

“Oh, sorry!” He sounds genuinely apologetic. “It was actually  _noona_. I was just telling her I was with you.” Smirking, he adds, “She’s very elated that we’re together.” 

“You better tell her we’re hanging out–  _platonically_.” 

“Nope. Gotta leave her hangin’ somehow.” 

But, okay, since it was Da-Won  _unni_ that he was texting (Probably one of the loveliest, kindest women that you’ll ever meet on this Earth), I’ll cut him some slack.  

“By the way, can I contact you in the case of an S.O.S?” He steals a piece of calamari with his fingers from my fork, stuffing it into his mouth before I could say anything. 

Was I hearing properly? S.O.S.? “Now, what in the world do you need an S.O.S. for?” 

“Well, y’know,” Ah, there we go:  The shirt collar adjustment again. I’ll duct tape his fingers together to keep him from doing that if I must. “If I need a pep talk! I need to text you!” 

“Or better yet, just be yourself, enjoy your first date and don’t text me at all!”  

And while I can’t really fault him for not wearing a jacket after we left the restaurant with our stomachs half-full and the bottom half of my body was freezing to wits end, his alternative solution was really…far from satisfactory. 

“Jeez,” I look up at the cloudy night sky threatening to rain once we step out of the lobby and onto the somewhat deserted sidewalk. “It’s cold.” 

“You’re tellin’ me.” Ho-Seok rubs his forearms for warmth, teeth chattering against the small gusts of wind that attacked us and threatened to send my skirt flaring about. “I should’ve brought my jacket.” 

“A tip for you, Seok, if Ji-Soo happens to be wearing something short that exposes her legs, ask her if she’d like your jacket.”  

He frowns, reaching deep into the pockets of his jeans, fishing for something (For whatever reason, I really don’t know). “And, uh,” Ho-Seok ends up pulling out a packet of tissues. “I don’t suppose uh, Kleenexes are good for retaining warmth.” 

Some things he says really give me the strongest urge to slap him silly. “Ya think?!” 

“I’m sorry!” He apologies yet again. Then, glancing down at his shirt, he suggests innocently, “Um, I could wrap this around your legs if you want. It’ll be short, though.” 

“Yes,” I mumble dryly, stalking away. “Because taking off your t-shirt in the middle of the sidewalk is completely appropriate.” Whirling around, I shout warningly at him, “You  ** _keep_**  that shit on!” 

And lastly, he didn’t seem to understand that for some girls, skin-ship in silence was generally enough. I admit:  I’m generalizing, but all I’m saying is that compliments, as genuine as they may be sometimes, had to be used sparingly. 

We’re making our way down the street to the bubble tea franchise that we loved, and just as we cross the street, a young couple – not much older than sixteen-years-old – collides into me; the male apologizes profusely (He bent down to bow so many times I thought he was going to break his spine), and the girl immediately intertwines her hand with his when they make their leave.  

“And if she’s interested in you at the very end of the date, she’ll probably want to initiate some form of hand-holding.” I gesture to the couple behind us, the boy now haphazardly spooning frozen yogurt into his girlfriend’s open mouth. “Exhibit A right there. But just a heads-up, feeding each other ice-cold desserts is often unnecessary.” 

“Oh, you mean like this?” Ho-Seok takes my fingers in his gently, rotating our clenched fists back and forth.   

“Uh, firstly, ow. Please don’t twist my hand into uncomfortable positions.” 

Ho-Seok ignores me. Great.                        

“Wow, I actually never realized,” He suddenly comments. “But your fingers are so slender and long.” To make matters worse, he was now using his free left hand to  _stroke_  my ring finger.   

“I’m glad you recognize piano hands where you see them, but uh,” I attempt to wring my hand from his grip, but either he suddenly gained superhuman strength – or he really  _did_  find the anatomy and bone structure of my hand marvelous. I’m low-key hoping for the latter, and also not at the same time. “Let go.”  

“Just a second. Wow, even your  _nails_  are so pretty. Do you ever put polish on them?” 

“You sound like you want to stuff me with cotton for your collection or something.”  

“That could be my side hobby.” His eyes light up brightly as he ventured deeper into his own imagination. “You can see it now. Jung Ho-Seok, full-time engineer, part-time taxidermist.” 

“ ** _NO._** ” 

So, yeah, Ho-Seok isn’t perfect. Far from it.  

But, what the hell. I’m not, either. Like the rest of us, he’ll have his little quirks and strange habits. Some might find it annoying, and perhaps someone will find things like that particularly endearing. And as I watched him wait in line to order our bubble teas, I wonder with a contemplative finger underneath my chin whether Ho-Seok himself has particular quirks and quips in girls that he likes.  

Maybe he liked someone who lived for spontaneity; someone who kept him on his toes at all times; someone witty, but pleasant; someone good-natured, warm and affectionate.   

I wonder if Ji-Soo is like that? 

“Thank-you!” His voice suddenly pipes up throughout the store louder than the background music, and he rushes back to me with a gigantic grin, erasing all thoughts from my mind altogether. “They ran out of the wintermelon tea for today, so I got you the passionfruit lemon tea instead. That’s your second favourite flavour, right?” 

“I should’ve paid for this,” I remark guiltily as he pockets his wallet securely. “You spent so much money already today.”  

“Annnnnd, I’m just going to pretend you didn’t hear that. You know I hate it when you say shit like that. By the way!” He hands me my plastic cup and straw. “You hate grass jelly, right? That’s why I got you the tapioca pearls. See?” Pointing at the small round balls now sunken to the bottom of my drink, he proclaims, “A+ date, right here!” 

“My shin still fucking hurts,” I retort, recalling that moment angrily. Slamming my plastic straw through the lid, I shake my head in fake disappointment. “So, no, Seok. I’ll give you a B+.” 

“Wen-Wennnnnnnn! Don’t do this to me! Don’t worry! I’ll make it up to you!”  

“We’re not going skating, are we?” 

“...Um, well, that doesn’t matter!” 

Ho-Seok sucks at surprises; that’s all I’m going to say. 

* * *

 

Two subway transfers, one drawn out bus ride and an irate driver whom rudely shooed us off with a small broomstick later –  

We weren’t skating. And I was less than impressed. 

Staring at the locked stainless-steel fence that blocked our entry into the rink (I’ll give him kudos for the attempt:  This was the exact rink that Jo Kwon and Ga-In went to when they shared their on-screen kiss – wait, didn’t I tell him not to watch that shit?!), I rub my forehead and heave a heavy sigh. Ho-Seok's tensing up beside me as he prepares to defend himself from my verbal assault.  

“I know. You’re going to yell at me. I can take it.” 

Instead, I do the opposite. “Number one tip, Ho-Seok, make sure you check the opening and closing dates for places of interest that you want to take your dates.” I scold, turning around from the closed gates of the skating rink. “I’m de-ranking you down to a B-.” 

“Nah, Wen-Wen, look!” He shoves the screen of his phone in my face, eyes bulging out of his sockets. “It said it was open today from 9:30 AM to 10 PM! Not my fault that Google sucks shit.”   

“And look at that!” I snap back in disbelief, pointing at the weather widget sitting on his home screen. “It’s supposed to rain!” I was about to open up my bag to pull out my umbrella – only to remember that I brought a tiny crossbody that did absolutely no favours in terms of storage space.  

Ho-Seok snorts, cocky. “You think I’m scared of a tiny bit of rain?” He waves his hand at the pitch-black sky before him, the street lamps illuminating his face with a warm glow. “Not a cloud in the sky!” 

“Ah, yes. No puffs of black anywhere.” 

In actuality, they were starting to pile in wispy clumps above our heads – and if I wasn’t mistaken, I felt a tiny drop of water splash onto my cheek. I sincerely pray that it’s crow spit.  

“The stars are all out.” 

I long to write about white speckles that splatter across the night sky. But I can’t. Because that ain’t happening.  

“Crickets are chirping.”  

Lies:  No bugs were out. At all. 

“What a  _lovely_  evening.” 

And as if God was really trying to push the limits of my patience, the single drop of rain that I felt a few minutes ago suddenly advances into a light trickle, and into a sudden downpour that drenched the both of us. Yanking on his arm to shield him from the raindrops pelting at our bare skin, I drag him underneath the tiny bus shelter. “When’s the next bus coming?” I ask, releasing the elastic from my wet hair and then running my fingers quickly through the pleats, loosening up the strands from the elastics’ tightness.  

“Uh, why don’t you uh, look?” 

Through the water-splattered screen, I gasp. “Thirty minutes.  Seok, you insolent – ” A B- didn't even cut it at this point. 

“Okay, don’t be mad!  I can fix this!  We’ve got two options!” 

“Shoot.” 

He raises his index finger.  “One:  We call a taxi back to your place so I can also pick up my car. Or,” His middle finger slinks upward. “Two:  We chill in the convenience store just across the street until the rain lets up.” He nods towards the brightly-lit 7-11, beckoning us with its emptiness.  

“Or,” I chime in. “An added bonus to number two:  We each buy an umbrella at the convenience store so we don’t go home dripping wet.” 

“Yeah, but like, I’d rather waste my money on fun things. Not necessities.” 

I shoot him a haphazard glare, voice full of mockery and sarcasm. “What  _fun_  can we even have in the middle of a rainstorm for half an hour?” 

Ho-Seok, unconcerned, only smiles knowingly. “You’re too uptight sometimes, Wen-Wen. Stop being your doting nurse for like five minutes, aight?” Pressing something on his phone, my ears perk up at the recognizable smooth melody in the form of Jay Park's hit, ‘All I Wanna Do’, that plays through the chilly night air.      

Holding out his hand for me, he encourages gently, “C’mon. Let’s dance.”  

For a split second, my heart stops. It’s romantically cliché, dancing in the rain.  Really, the only time I remember seeing this was in The Notebook and even then, I already cringed at how cheesy it panned out.  

But still, there was something about Ho-Seok's prodding through his warm eyes and dimples and everything that I loved about him, that even I couldn’t help but entwine my fingers with his.  

His energy – despite the rain, despite his setbacks and slip-ups during our pseudo-date – was invigoratingly infectious. 

Guiding me to the middle of the empty street, I say almost with uncertainty, “Seok. You might be the pro here, but I for sure as hell don’t know how to dance.” 

“Really, now?” He chuckles softly. “Rather nice of you to compliment me to get out of it.” As a final reassurance, he gives my hand a squeeze, and the timidness, the uncertainty – I can feel it leave my body. “Don’t worry, Wen-Wen. Just follow me.”  

And with nothing else left to say between us, he turns his body towards me elegantly, completely in tune with the soft snaps heard beneath the smooth, masculine tenor.  

It’s painfully awkward at first, because my mind is still so convoluted from his sudden spontaneity. I step on his feet a few times during the first verse, and I can’t help but squeak out inaudible apologies with my gaze averted downwards. But he tilts my chin up with his finger and whispers, “My shoes aren’t as important as my face now, are they?” 

The dim street lamp lights up Ho-Seok's handsome face through the darkness, and the longer I stared, the more I started to fall deeper and deeper into the warm, sparkling abyss that made up his eyes. Yes, yes, he’s right – I'd rather gaze at him. And subconsciously, I feel myself relax as we continued to sway back and forth.  

“There you go. You’re getting the hang of it.” 

There was always a certain type of gentile tenderness that Ho-Seok had reserved only for me when holding my hand, but when he’s in his element, he doesn’t hesitate in showing off the clean sharpness of his moves. He’s an experienced dancer, and the way that he manipulated his body was harsh and precise. 

As if he was trying to prove to me that there’s more to him than the boy with ice-cream smeared all over his face from twenty-three years ago.   

He doesn't have to impress me - I always looked highly upon him, anyway. I just never bothered to tell him.

The pattering raindrops continue to hit us, but even through the frigid cold, my body warms up with his touch and as my feet accustom to the fast tempo. We’re drenched to the core now; his t-shirt clings to his body tightly, my shoes stained in flecks of mud – but in this very moment, all I cared about was him. He picks up suit, leading me into a graceful turn as the song continues into Hoody and Loco’s verses, his melodious laugh rings throughout the night air. 

“For someone who isn’t a dancer, you sure are doing pretty well!” 

“I have a good teacher.” 

“ _What do I do? You’re about to enter my heart._ ” 

And I start to question, was he? Was he, really? Maybe he’s always been there. 

“ _Everything I do has a ‘with you’ at the end._ ” 

“May I do something?” 

I nod, heart racing loudly against my ribcage. “Please, go right ahead.” 

The song nears the end, fading into Jay’s repetitive arpeggio. He wraps his arms tightly around my waist, as I do with my own wound around his neck for support, lifting me a few inches off the ground, spinning us. My head grows lightheaded, not from the vertigo – but from the very presence of Ho-Seok and his sensual playfulness.  

And just like that, it ends as quickly as it started. Our faces are abashedly close. He hasn’t let go yet; an inkling tells me to hold him tighter.   

“So, what’d you think?” 

“That was,” I say with a satisfied smile. “Definitely a move.”  

Even though I couldn’t see his face clearly through my muddled vision, I can hear the brightness in his voice. “You liked it, then?” 

“Liked is not strong enough to describe what just happened. I loved it.”  

And unmistakably, he lets go of my body, and I'm already missing the touch of his hands on me. I try to arrange my face into what appears to be a neutral expression, but I hope he didn’t catch the flash of disappointment in my eyes when we headed back to the bus shelter to call for a taxi.

* * *

 

Our pseudo-date has to, inevitably, come to an end.  

But when Ho-Seok insisted on seeing me up to the front door of my apartment, a part of me also didn’t want him to go. A part of me wanted to invite him in to dry himself off and to spend the night, just to talk. Or play video games. Have coffee. Watch Netflix.  

Anything, really. 

“So, how’d I do overall?” 

Ah, right. I completely forgot that I was supposed to give him my final verdict on how he performed. “Yes, yes. I remember.”  

A complete lie:  I was too distracted.  

“Well, I mean, I had a nice time.” My voice trails off, and he looks at me expectantly for more feedback. That hurts, and I feel it physically:  A sting that causes my heart to lurch.  

“And, don’t worry, I guess.” My key is inserted into the slot and turned halfway, and I wanted nothing more than to escape because I didn’t want to talk about his impending first official date at all. “She’ll like you if you just be yourself like how you were with me.” 

“But I mean, it’s you, Wen-Wen,” His gaze is full of affection; I can’t help but melt.  “Of course, I’ll be comfortable with you.” Holding out his fist, he adds cheekily, “Pound it for good luck tomorrow?” 

I bump my knuckles against his lightly, but truthfully, my deepest desires were hoping that he would do terrible or that Ji-Soo wouldn’t show up, crushing him emotionally. 

 _God. What am I saying? What am I even thinking?! Why am I such a terrible person?_  

Before he can say anything else, I stammer, “Uh, well, good-night!” I slam the door shut behind me, sinking onto the ground with my hand clutching my chest. 

“That…was weird.”  

Pressing my ear against the door, I hear a few squeaky shuffles before he heaves a heavy sigh and leaves, footsteps faltering until I hear the familiar elevator door ping.   

Ye-Rim, whom was seated on my couch watching Black Mirror, stands up, gasping at the sight of my soaked, raggedly appearance; Melonpan struts over and nuzzles his head against my foot welcomingly, only to snarl and swipe at me when his fur came into contact with moisture.   

“ _Unni_ , what on Earth happened to you?!” Rushing over to my bathroom dresser, Ye-Rim pulls out a large towel and wraps my body with it. “Oh, you poor thing!” She coos, rubbing my hair through the towel softly. “You forgot your umbrella?” 

Her questions and tutting about weather reports are completely ignored, because what could I even do when my mind was full of a whirlwind of perplexing emotions? 

But then, it suddenly hits me like a ton of bricks.   

“Oh, my God.”  

Ye-Rim stops her ministrations for a moment, brows quirked up in curiosity.  

“I’m in love with Ho-Seok.” 

And Ye-Rim:  Sweet, intelligent Ye-Rim has that knowing smirk on her face. “You figured it out, finally?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I know. It's cliche and cheesy to write about any couple dancing in the rain - and to a song like Jay's, too. But, how could I help myself when all I wanna do is make WenSeok happy? ;) (I'LL SEE MYSELF OUT). Hope you guys enjoyed and thanks for reading!


	4. Aftermath.

A shower, a soothing cup of tea and the hour hand was creeping towards two o’clock in the morning. Melonpan’s fast asleep, snoozing away in his cushion comfortably and Ye-Rim is sitting next to me on my bed as I retold my narrative.

Suffice to say, we weren’t going to fall asleep any time soon.

“I can’t believe it,” I murmur yet again for the umpteenth time that night. “And to think that you  _knew_?!”

“Well, let’s put it this way,” Ye-Rim begins cautiously, careful with her words. “I’m not a matchmaker, and like I said earlier this morning, I’d much rather watch things unfold naturally than play a part. What can I say?” She shrugs, smiling grimly. “It’s just much more fun that way.” 

I scoff, turning away from her scrutinizing gaze. “Tch.”

“Deep down, though, I know you must be feeling really uncomfortable right now, with him going on a date with Ji-Soo and all tomorrow.” She has a hand on my knee, her voice sympathetic. “I’m sorry that it had to play out this way.”

“Eh, it’s not your fault. Don’t apologize. No one to blame other than me, myself and I.”  

“There’s no blame to be put on anyone, not even you,” She snaps sharply, and I flinch – she was never one to beat around the bush, this girl.  “Sometimes, you just can’t help whom you fall for. In this case, I admit it is a little - “ She clicks her tongue, fumbling around for the right word. “ _Complex_.  Especially with how deep your history goes with Ho-Seok  _oppa_.”

I muse over her words for a moment, nodding. “That’s  _exactly_  what I’m afraid of.  I’m so deathly terrified that – that whatever I have for him right now, it’s going to ruin our friendship.”  I’ve heard too many anecdotes from others about falling for friends, only to have those feelings unreciprocated. More often than not, it leads to a devastating end.

Irene- _unni_ _,_ for example. Tae-Hyung, a dietitian whom worked at the same hospital as us, cut off all contact with her after she kindly rejected him, saying that she only saw him as a doting younger brother. Eventually, he told her that it was too difficult for him to face her, and he needed a break. I remember that it took her almost a full year to get her life back on track.

And just imagining the prospect of Ho-Seok turning his back on me, never speaking to me ever again. No more text messages from him, asking to hang out. No more ‘How’s school going?’ or Instagram direct messages of memes to cheer me up when I was having a stressful day. 

Did I really want that? 

“Would you ever tell him that you like him?” Ye-Rim's question interrupts my train of thought, and I groan inwardly.

“I haven’t even thought about that yet. All I know is that the next time I see him, I’ll just – I'm probably going to behave completely out of character.”

“He’s not as dumb as we think,” She says. “He’ll pick up your uneasiness automatically.” 

“Then, I guess I’ll just have to hide my feelings for the rest of my life!” Clasping my hands together, I announce bitterly, “Absolutely perfect as I watch him continue to date woman after woman and eventually get married, have the family that he always wanted!” 

“But if you don’t tell, I think you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if that scenario actually happens.” Ye-Rim begins gently. “Are you really going to be happy then, not knowing what could’ve happened if you were just a tiny bit braver? If you were willing to take that risk?”

“I - “

“Take it from me. It’s better to rip off the Band-Aid once and for all and deal with the pain at once.” Her eyes harden into steel when she says this, and I’m briefly reminded of that painstaking memory where she burst into my apartment in tears after Tae-Yong (Her first love from high school) rejected her after years upon years of pining. The worst part was, she had to find out by walking in on him kissing a classmate of his, Jennie Kim.

“I wasted a lot of time back then, even when everyone else was warning me with Tae-Yong's red flags. If I had listened back then,” She shakes her head, disappointed. “I wouldn’t have spent a year and a half recovering. I probably would’ve started Jung-Kook  _oppa_  already, too. But – “ She shrugs casually. “You live and you learn. And that’s my two cents for you. I know why you’re scared, and you have all reason to be. But, please.” She’s speaking from experience, so there was no doubting the sincere conviction in her advice. “I don’t want you to live a life full of regrets, pining over someone. As much as it’s glorified in movies and books, it isn’t attractive and it isn’t romantic. You’ll fall into a cycle of over-analyzing every little thing that he says and does, and that – to me, anyway – is almost the equivalent of a mental breakdown. I don’t want to see you like that,  _ever_.”

She pauses, catching her breath. “I know you need some time to think things over.” Ye-Rim glances at the wall clock hanging above her head. “So, I’ll leave you to your thoughts, then?”   

My eyelids start to droop sleepily, but instead, I wrap a hand around her wrist, asking, “Ye-Rimmie. Can you stay the night?” I know it’s a terribly selfish request, considering that she already wasted a day with my cat, doing nothing productive. And now, she even had to lose sleep over problems that  _I_  should be thinking up solutions to. 

Ye-Rim smiles, patting my head gently. “I’m supposed to see Kookpa tomorrow morning, but you know what? For you,  _unni_ , I’ll stay for as long as you wish.”

She takes a little while to wash up and change into some more comfortable attire, but once she does, she cuddles up next to me in bed and wraps the blanket tightly around herself.  Through the darkness, I hear her mumble tiredly, “If it helps,  _unni_ , I actually think he likes you, too. He’s just a little slow on uptake.”

“Thank-you, Ye-Rimmie. It helps.” 

I don’t think she hears my gratitude, because soon after, I hear light snoring.  Turning onto my back with my eyes on the ceiling before me, I know that staying up and thinking about Ho-Seok wasn’t going to do me any good. It takes much difficulty, but I force my eyes close and try for some shut-eye.

* * *

 

Surprisingly enough, I do end up with at least six hours of sleep. When I stir to a wake at around nine, Ye-Rim was already gone, but she had left a stack of pancakes and a glass of milk for me on the kitchen table with a sticky note apologizing for leaving without informing her and that she had to change her clothes before meeting up with Jung-Kook for lunch. 

At the bottom of the note is a P.S. in cursive writing, telling me that I was also welcome to join if I wanted. 

_As a distraction! :) Let me know!_

But then, I realize it’s probably not the best.  I didn’t want to intrude on their special time together, and on the other hand, it also painfully reminds me of my hang-outs with Ho-Seok and his love for food.

Ugh. Ho-Seok.

Suddenly realizing that I had never texted him yesterday night to see if he had arrived home safely, I dig through the crossbody sitting on my couch for my phone. Not surprisingly, there were ten unread messages from him.

The stream of texts show that he texted shortly after he dropped me off back at my apartment, and up until this morning - about half an hour ago, to be precise. 

 _From:  Jung Ho-_ _Seokkie_    
 _Received At:  10:29 P.M._    
   
 _I hope you changed your clothes, or that at least Ye-Rim took care of you! Don’t get sick! >3< _

 _From:  Jung Ho-_ _Seokkie_    
 _Received At:  11:01 PM_    
   
 _I’m home now! Thanks for your help today, Wen-Wen_ _^^!_ _I hope you had fun today,_ _hehe_ _._

 _From:  Jung Ho-Seokkie_    
 _Received At:  11:01 PM_    
   
 _Oh shit. You know what I just realized? I actually took the Pikachu_ _stuffie_ _home with me. LOL. I’ll give it to you when I see you next time!_

 _From:  Jung Ho-_ _Seokkie_    
 _Received At:  11:03 PM_    
   
 _P.S. Don’t worry about me spending a lot of money_ _XD Hahaha._ _I know you mull over these types of things a lot, but so long as you enjoyed yourself!_    
   
 _From:  Jung Ho-_ _Seokkie_    
 _Received At:  11:12 PM_    
   
 _I guess you’re already in bed and asleep? I’m really hoping that you aren’t coming down with a cold or something..._

 _From:  Jung Ho-_ _Seokkie_    
 _Received At: 11:31 PM_    
   
 _Yah. You’re online on Messenger._ _> =(! _ _What gives?!_

Shit. I forgot to hide my status on Facebook.  I sincerely hope he didn’t continue to press the issue.

 _From:  Jung Ho-Seokkie_    
 _Received At:  12:01 AM_    
   
 _Hmm. I guess there are status lags? Anyway, good-night, Wen-Wen! See you soon!_ _^^_

That’s what I’m afraid of.

 _From:  Jung Ho-_ _Seokkie_    
 _Received At:  7:03 AM_    
   
 _It’s a Sunday morning and I wake up so early for no god-damn reason. Anyway, let me know when you’re awake!  I need to ask you something!_

If he was asking me about what to wear for his date today, I’m sorry to say that I really didn’t want to care.   
 _From:  Jung Ho-_ _Seokkie_    
 _Received At:  8:39 AM_    
   
 _I’m starting to worry whether forcing you to dance in the rain with me was a good idea or not. Are you sick?_

With that, I know that I couldn’t just leave him on read. I open up the text box and type a quick response.  It has to be short and snappy. Or at least, a clear indication to him that I was in no mood to talk to him (For now, anyway).

 _To:  Jung Ho-_ _Seokkie_    
 _Sent At:  9:21 AM_

_Sorry, I fell asleep_ _and woke up late_ _._ _Ya_ _know._ _Too tired._

I end up typing a little more, despite my heart telling me not to.

_Good luck on your date today! ^^_ _Whisk her away with your charm!_

Tossing my phone carelessly onto my kitchen table, I rub my temples to soothe my headache. There’s no doubt about it – I can feel my heart lurching at the thought of their hands potentially holding, their skin touching. Like how he firmly took hold of my waist last night as we danced. 

The painful thrum ends up searing into an uncontrollable, ugly fire of jealousy, and I can’t find the appetite to stomach Ye-Rim's breakfast anymore. 

I know he likes Ji-Soo. I can tell. It might be a tad bit too early to think about their prospective futures as a couple, but if I was honest, they would make be beautifully adorable together:  A handsome engineer and a gorgeous dentist, successfully climbing their way up in their respective fields.  What more could one ever ask for? 

And if, inevitably, he truly finds happiness with her, then shouldn’t I – his lifelong friend – also be equally happy for him? 

The noble, unselfish side says ‘ _of course_ ’.

But, I’m only human, after all. I can’t do it. I’m lying to myself.  

Distractions, distractions, distractions. 

I really need all the distractions necessary today.

* * *

 

I didn’t want to stray too far away from my apartment, because I knew for a fact that if I ended up venturing into the luxurious hustle and bustle of Seoul, I could very easily bump into Ho-Seok and Ji-Soo together. 

I contemplate going to the gym for a workout, because presumably, it should relieve me of any stress. But instead, I pick up my book bag and head for the quaint coffee shop that was situated a block away, with the intentions of getting a head start on studying for the upcoming semester. 

The bell tinkles in a series of melodic chimes above my head when I open the door, and already, I’m welcomed with the rustic aroma of grounded coffee beans and low-fi hip-hop beats drifting throughout the homey café.  It wasn’t packed, fortunately, aside from the group of university students with their noses buried deep in their textbooks occupying the largest table – my favourite booth tucked away in the corner nearest the bathroom was pristine, clean and (fortunately) unoccupied.   

“Oh, Wendy- _sshi_! Long time, no see!” I turn towards the counter, smiling when I notice my favourite barista – in her trademark high ponytail, thick cat eyeliner and uplifted cheeks – standing behind the cash register.  

“Oh, Seulgi- _sshi_! Last time I came here, they told me you quit!” Considering that it was barely crowded and there were no rude, impudent customers waiting behind me, I took my time to make small talk with her before placing my order.

She looks extremely scandalized. Hands on her hips, she demands, “Who said so?!”

“Mark, I believe.  The red-head?”

“Screw his pathetic ass! I went on a trip with my boyfriend to  _Haeundae_ , that’s why. He wants your tips because you’re so generous.” She ends up spouting angry, quiet threats under her breath as she turns her attention to the roaster behind her.

“Don’t worry,” I reassure lightly. “I still love your lattes the most.”

“And, that’s why you’re my favourite customer.” She remains focused at the task at hand, barely turning away from the frothy steamed milk. “Have a seat! I’ll be back with your drink in a flash!”  

Before I can crack my book and laptop open, Seulgi shuffles over in her dusty apron with my order, alongside a plate of Snickerdoodles. “It’s on the house,” She says with a wink, noting my open mouth that was about to protest. “Oh, and by the way!” She scans the area, clearly in search of something – or perhaps, someone? “Um, where’s your man?” 

I gaze at her questioningly. “My...man...?”

“Oh, y’know, that sweetheart that’s always with you.  If that doesn’t ring a bell, then, the matcha latte lover!”  

Oh. She’s talking about Ho-Seok. I’m not surprised she asked. He’s the only one that I’ve taken here. 

I’m starting to wonder if it’s wrong of me to feel elated that Ho-Seok and I keep getting mistaken as a couple:  Her comments warm up my system better than the sun, but it’s also precisely this that makes me realize I’m setting myself up for heartbreak if I keep this up.  

“Ah, I know who you’re talking about,” I say finally, my welcoming smile faltering slightly (No matter how hard I tried to keep this positive façade up, certain triggers were enough to make it crumble). “He’s actually just my friend. He’s busy today.” 

If I wasn’t mistaking it, Seulgi’s eyes flash with mutual understanding that I didn’t want to talk about him. 

“Oh, well. That’s a shame. Well.” She clasps a hand on my shoulder, almost encouraging in a way. “Tell him I said hi.”   

“I will.”

Unfortunately for me, the rest of the afternoon goes rather uneventfully. My original plan of studying to keep my brain occupied is unsuccessful, as my phone continues to buzz annoyingly every hour or so.

I’m pretty sure it’s Ho-Seok – who else could it be? When I pick up my phone to unlock it, I’m surprised that he only sent me one message after my rather cold response from this morning – and it was received at ten thirty:  Two hours before he was supposed to meet up with Ji-Soo. 

 _From:  Jung Ho-_ _Seokkie_    
 _Received At:  10:30 AM_    
   
 _Omg, I thought you died._ _Jk_ _. Seriously, don’t scare me like that! And thank-_ _youuu_ _! ^^ I’m excited,_ _hehe_ _. Flustered, but I think our practice helped! Talk to you soon!_

The rest were from my Instagram and Facebook about random events happening around town. I scoff; at the very least, he did take my words to heart and avoided using his phone during his date.

But it makes me irrationally furious and conflicted.  Furious, for no god damn good reason. Conflicted, because I don’t want to initiate any further contact, but at the same time, I really  _want_ him to message me. I want to talk to him, but also not. I’m too scared to hear about his detailed description of how Ji-Soo was so ‘this’ and ‘that’, and I’ll end up comparing myself with her in places that I lack. 

God, if falling in love leaves me resentful, hateful and negative, then I’d rather have someone lock up my heart and throw away the key so I’m devoid of emotion altogether.

Angrily, I shut the power off and hastily rip the battery out altogether, but it was already too late:  I can’t refocus my concentration on my readings. So instead, I pack up my belongings and decide to head home, with Seulgi chasing after me with a pre-packaged box of leftover pastries for me to bring back home.

“Take it,” She emphasizes curtly after I decline. “I think you could use some sugar.” 

By the time I make it back to my apartment, I’m already so exhausted - and it was barely seven in the evening.  Melonpan was fast asleep, yet again. If only I could be as carefree as him.    

Instead of preparing dinner, I lazily reach for the pastry box that Seulgi gave me. There’s an assortment of goodies in there:  Snickerdoodles, brownies and – wow, what do you know? Matcha shortbread cookies, too. Ho-Seok's personal favourites. I should probably save these for him when he comes to visit –  

...God, is it impossible to not have him invade my subconscious for at least ten seconds?!  

Sitting up, I rub my temples tiredly. I don’t think love is supposed to be this mentally straining. On the bright side, the phone thing did help – but not for long, as exhibited.  

Pressing my face into the pillow, I let out a groan. “Brain. Stop this.  Right now.” Think of something. Anything. Anything at all!

Puppies. Hedgehogs. 

Shaved ice. Brunch.

Haruki Murakami novels. Nigella Lawson cookbooks. 

Big Bang. 2NE1. Kendrick Lamar. 2PAC.  

Grand pianos. Kyle Hanagami. World of Dance reruns.

The terrible plot in the Resident Evil franchise. 

The Persona series, and subsequent shipping of Ann Takamaki with Ryuji Sakamoto. Stardew Valley (Cue intense, hysterical sobbing about Shane’s backstory).  

False promises of going to the gym. Random lines of code.           

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. These were all things Ho-Seok  _liked_. Fuck, what’s wrong with me?

I make a swipe for the remote control and a blanket, and proceed to put on a random movie on as white noise to lull me to sleep once I’m wrapped comfortably within the fleece. I didn’t care that my stomach was aching hungrily, and I couldn’t give more than two shits about my unwashed face. 

At least if I fall asleep, I don’t need to think about anything – or anyone, for that matter.   

* * *

 

**_KNOCK._ **

**_KNOCK_ ** **_KNOCK_ ** **_._ **

As much as I wanted to avoid the aftermath of his date (Hearing how amazing she was, how fantastic their dinner was, how smooth he was, how her lips tasted of cherry lip balm), I know that I can’t avoid it forever. The rabid pounding against my front door drags my lazy self off the couch and to the noise.

Without peeking through the peep hole at who it was, I swing it open.

But as I expected, Ho-Seok stands right before me, completely unannounced, and my heart sinks deep into my chest. He has his phone in his clutches; was he texting Ji-Soo while waiting for me to welcome him in? Swallowing the hard lump in my throat, my voice cracks hoarsely, “Good morning.” 

He eyes me up and down with his arms crossed in a judging stance. “Well, good morning to you, too.” From behind, Melonpan sneaks up to greet Ho-Seok with a tiny  _‘meow’_. “Hey! Long-time no see, little buddy!” He ends up purring into his touch before retreating to the kitchen.

“Don’t you dare say anything about this, alright?” I gesture to my day-old clothes and close the door behind him. “I fell asleep on the sofa.” Somehow, seeing him here on the morning of a holiday when he presumably needed to catch up on his sleep from the excitement of his first date made the situation ten times worse. 

The date must’ve gone well if he had to see me right after, I think to myself bleakly as I pour two glasses of water. A part of me wished that he spilt red wine on her dress, or that she had an awful personality behind that pretty exterior of hers. 

It’s horrible to have these thoughts, I know. Jealousy isn’t attractive, I know.

And I know, Ji-Soo did nothing wrong. Ho-Seok,  _especially_ , did nothing wrong. But God, how can I stop myself from having these thoughts? It kills me; it really does. An agonizing, emotional death, if you will.  

“Are you sure you’re just tired? You didn’t respond to my messages or calls yesterday so I had to come over to see if you were alright,” He confesses, removing his jacket and shoes.   “I thought maybe you got ill from that night.”

Wait, he sent more?

“Ah.” I mumble in realization. Right. I removed the battery and hid it somewhere to keep myself from going through that vicious cycle of phone unlocking-and-locking. Shit, where did I put that damn piece of plastic? “Phone died. Sorry.” It wasn’t  _technically_  a lie, but I sincerely wished that the firmness in my voice was enough to keep him from probing.

“You want me to check it?”

Ugh, nevermind.

“No, it’s fine. I just need to charge it.” Once I find the battery, that is. 

“Hmm.” Handing him his glass, we both make ourselves comfortable in the living room – him on the couch, and me on the carpeted floor. He flashes me a questionable gaze from the corner of his eye, and a twitch in his jaw tells me that he wanted to call me out on that. 

But seriously, after my sudden epiphany, did he really  _think_  I would be comfortable being in such close proximity with him? Feigning an enthusiastic smile, I change the subject abruptly. “So, how was your date? Was Ji-Soo a perfect ten?”

God. Even the way I worded the question sounds passive-aggressive. If he didn’t catch that, I would be shocked.

Yet, Ho-Seok seems completely unfazed. He shrugs, seemingly neutral – nothing positive, nothing negative.  I’m not sure whether to be reassured or upset about that. 

“We had lunch in  _Gangnam_ , and then went to COEX afterwards for some window-shopping and then ended off with coffee and dessert at one of the cafes there that her friend owns. She’s perfectly lovely.” 

Ouch, perfectly lovely. Two things that I’ll never be, and it stings my insides quite a bit. I nod quietly through his story, digging my fingers deep into my palm to keep myself from saying stupid things.

“She texted me this morning, actually,” Ho-Seok continues. “Saying she had a wonderful time and that it’s surprising that this was my first date.”

“Well, duh. Your first date was technically with me.” And sadly, I’m wishing for more. I really,  _really_  want to tell him that.

Ho-Seok cracks a gentle smile, but it quickly subsides into an unreadable expression. “She said she’d like to do it again soon.”

Of course, she would.  _Any girl_  would, much less the picture-perfect, impeccable Kim Ji-Soo. 

“Oh.” Was there even anything else left to say? Do I wish them the best of luck and usher him out? I stare at him blankly, tapping the sides of my mug until he breaks the silence impatiently.

“Well?”

“Right, uh.” I really didn’t understand why he was egging me on like this, as if he were purposefully trying to provoke some response (Good or bad, I don’t know) out of me. But you know what, Ye-Rim's right. It’s better to rip this Band-Aid off once and for all. I can deal with the pain of unrequited feelings maturely. Or, even if I can’t, I’ll play it off as some petty, snarky fight amongst friends.

Sucking in a deep breath, I brace myself for whatever his answer was with a glazed look. “Did you text her that you’ll meet up with her sometime soon?” 

“I told her that,” He begins slowly, watching me through hooded eyelids. “While I enjoyed her company and I can see us becoming close friends and hanging out platonically, I don’t think it’d be a good idea and that I’m sorry.”

* * *

 

I was expecting everything else – everything from ‘We’re eloping tomorrow’ to ‘I think I got her pregnant’. But I wasn’t expecting that. Anything, but that.

Heart thumping rapidly in my chest, I stammer, “Um, w-why not?”

Ho-Seok’s blinking faster than my racing heart. “Um, well,” Tugging on his shirt, he struggles in finding the proper words to answer me. “Well, let’s just say, I experienced an epiphany.” 

Is this what we call déjà vu? A tad bit braver, but still apprehensive, I whisper meekly, “Care to explain?”

“I  _really_  don’t know if I have enough self-esteem to emerge from this unscathed. Actually, you know what? I’m gonna go. This is a bad time, I think. I-I'll see you later!” Suddenly standing up, he makes a brisk walk for the door only for me to catch his wrist in my grasp. 

“No, Ho-Seok,” I state firmly. “We’re going to talk about this, regardless.”

He’s  _still_  standing, but even with his back towards me, I can hear the uneasiness. “Are you  _sure_  you want to hear it? Because I’ll be honest, Seung-Hwan – ” 

Seung-Hwan:  Normally reserved for serious discussions. Like now, for instance.  

“It’ll probably change our friendship a whole lot. And, if things don’t play out the way I want them to, then, I’m not sure if I’m ready for that. God,” Burying his face in his hands, he croaks pitifully, “I’m so fucking selfish, thinking only about myself and how I feel.”

“Sit down and tell me.”

“I – I  _think_ ,” He drawls before stumbling clumsily with his words, awkwardly falling into a cross-legged position a few inches beside me. “I’m, um, I’m starting to look at you in that way.”

Oh, my God.

My throat is parched. My mouth is dry. My hands are trembling. “T-That way is – “ I already knew what he was talking about. I just needed him to say it.  I needed to hear it. 

Ho-Seok shoots me a scathing grimace through his hands. “You  _know_  what I mean!”

“You like me?” 

“No. I mean,” He corrects quickly, flushing redder than I’ve ever seen. “Yes. Like, two likes, with an added emphasis on the first one!”

“ _Like_ , like?”

“Would you kill me if I said yes?” He looks down at his hands for a moment, and – after sucking in a deep breath – he stares at me squarely in the eyes. “I like you, Wendy Son Seung-Hwan. Okay? I like – no, I’m lying. I  _think_  I’m starting to fall in love with you.” His breath hitches, exhaling before speaking again. “And it’s scary. It really is. Because we’ve been friends for so long, and I’m suddenly springing this on you. And it’s  _precisely_  because we’ve known each other for so long that it makes things so much more complex because if you don’t feel the same way, I don’t want to lose a beautiful friend like you and I  - “

As he continues to ramble, one word sticks in my mind like putty. Beautiful. He called me beautiful for the very first time.

“Ho-Seok. Shh. Stop talking.” I find myself moving closer and closer to him; he isn’t backing away. 

Lowering my voice, I murmur softly, “But, why would you ever like someone like me? Ji-Soo’s  _so_  perfect.  She seems cheerful, smiley and smart. Everything that you are.”  

My heavy self-consciousness returns, and I add regretfully to my palms, “And everything that I’m not.”

“Perfect, that may be true, but not that kind of perfect for me,” He cuts in. “Look, I know it sounds ridiculous. But after that night, I – felt...something different. I didn’t just see you as my childhood friend anymore. When we were hanging out together, I realized that you actually  _get_  me. You  _understand_  me. And when Johnny started to hit on you, it bothered me. It bothered me  _so much_  that I had to show him up, and I thought it was just me and my overprotective self at work. But, it’s not.” He says this with so much vulnerability and openness, it’s powerfully overwhelming that my eyes are starting to sting with fresh tears. I’d like to say that they’re happy tears, though?

“We’ve been attached at the hip for so many years, but I’ve been idiotic for so long to overlook you.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “You're –  _amazing_ , Seung-Hwan.  You always have and you always will be.”

I’m stunned. Because personally, I always thought it was the other way around.

“And there’s always more depth to your personality. You’re not superficial or fake,” He presses urgently. The always lighthearted, jokey persona of his is no longer in sight. “You’re witty and full of charm, but you’re also thoughtful and warmhearted. And you know how to bring out the best in me, even in times when I doubted my capabilities. You inspire me to be a better person.” 

Funny. Because it was exactly  _him_  that made me want to improve myself, too. 

“Look,” Ho-Seok takes my hands in his, and his touch is electrifying. He’s more confident now, knowing full-well how I felt without having any verbal confirmation. “Seung-Hwan. I know this sounds crazy, and I can say all these things that I wholeheartedly love about you. But the bottom line is: I really,  _really_  like you. And I’d really love for us to give whatever we have a try.”

His heartfelt confession  _almost_  erases all of my insecurities. Aside from one that has lingered in my head since last night.

“But,” A tiny voice emerges from the base of my throat, frightened. “What if we break up?” The first tear trickles down my cheek, and Ho-Seok dabs it away with his finger. “If we break up, our friendship won’t be like what it used to be. We might push each other away, resent each other, and never speak to each other ever again. I  _want_  to pursue a relationship with you, I really do. But, it's the ‘what-if’s that are holding me back.”  

To my surprise, Ho-Seok wraps his arm around my neck protectively, and I lean into his shoulder with muffled sniffling.  Just like high school, when I was tormented notoriously by Minji and he came to my defense. Only this time, I feel myself melting deeper and deeper into his romantic caress – almost to the point of no return. “And I’ll throw one question back to you, Seung-Hwan,” He says softly. “What if we don’t?”

“Huh?”

“What if we  _don’t_  break-up?” He repeats. “I mean, if you can stand me for twenty-three years already...” Even through blurry eyes, I see his lips light up broadly into a smile. “I think you’re well-equipped to handle me for another five, ten and fifteen years.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” He continues seriously. “You bring up valid concerns, and this isn’t to say that we won’t argue or have disagreements. And there’s that unknown risk that if we do break-up, I’m going to lose not only my first girlfriend – “ 

The way he uses that label makes my heart flutter uncontrollably; he  _actually_  foresees a possible future with me.  

“But a wonderful, dear friend, too. But, here’s the thing: Because I’ve known you for so long, I’m certain that whatever challenge we need to face in the future as a couple, we can tackle it together.” He has his determined gaze set on me. “Taking our friendship to the next level...to a relationship. It’s a risk I’m willing to take, because I’m taking it with  _you_.”

Really? With  _me_? 

Ho-Seok strokes his thumb against my cheek tenderly as a final reassurance. “What do you say? I don’t know why, but I have a strong hunch that we'll be alright. What do you think?” 

“I think that...” It’s funny. If our friends had asked us about potentially dating a year ago, we would’ve criticized them crudely to no end. But now, that idea doesn’t seem as laughable as it once was. Sure, Ho-Seok might not be my ideal type, but I also know for a fact that there isn’t any other person on this Earth who would lovingly accept me for everything that I was – flaws, imperfections and insecurities included.   

And while I still held that lingering fear of horrible break-ups, it seems to be shrinking with each passing second that Ho-Seok had me in his arms.

Perhaps, it’s worth giving us a shot.    

Laughing embarrassingly, I shift away from his body slightly and mumble with pink tinged cheeks and dried tear stains, “...I think that starting now, you’re my boyfriend.”

“Of course.” I can't see his face, but even without looking, I can hear so much satisfaction in his voice that my heartstrings tug. 

It feels good. It feels  _really_  good to be bursting at the seams in happiness.

“And, I’m your girlfriend now.”  

It might take a little bit of time to get used to, being Jung Ho-Seok's girlfriend. 

Oh, my God. I’m not just  _anybody’s_ ; I’m actually Jung Ho-Seok's significant other. 

“I presume that’s how dating works, at least according to those articles online. So, yes.”

“Okay.” Grinning from ear to ear, my hand interlaces through the gaps between his fingers. “We’re dating now. I mean, I’m sorry I’m not dressed better.” Glancing down at my wrinkly attire, I chuckle. “I’d prefer not to do this in old jeans and hoodies.”

“I like you this way, though.” Tilting my chin up, his voice drops down to a deep, raspy whisper. “And I really don’t care whether or not you’re properly dressed. I just want to be with you.”

Similarly, to the night of our pseudo-date, our lips are once again so audaciously close to one another’s. This time, however, I squish his cheeks gently and graze my nose against his fleetingly. I can almost hear his heart beating thunderously, but it manifests in reality as he closes the minimal space between us.

And it’s wonderful when our mouths connect in a soft, yearning kiss that leaves me with butterflies erupting in my stomach and my knees trembling in weakness. He’s a little sloppy and clumsy. And maybe a little too curious with his tentative tongue probing for entry into my mouth. But the soft caress of his supple lips sends me flying into cloud nine that I give way, anyway, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to keep him close. A pleasurable moan rumbles at the back of his throat as his fingers continue to trace goosebumps-inducing patterns on my arm, signifying that he liked this new, foreign sensation. But before things escalate further, we finally break apart while gasping for air.                  

No more words are needed – it's written on our faces: He’s mine, and I’m his, and we both couldn’t be happier with how things had played out.

“Did you kiss Ji-Soo, by the way?”

“Not at all,” He breathes, resting his forehead against mine. “But, do you...do you mind telling me again?” 

“What?”

“Tell me again that you’re dating me,” He demands, his breath hot against my jawline. “I like hearing it.”

Yes. Yes, yes. I’ll tell him again and again, no matter how many times he requests me to do so.

“I, Wendy Son Seung-Hwan, am in a relationship with Jung Ho-Seok.” As irrational it might sound to my ears, it makes so much damn sense. 

“Can you believe it?” He questions. “Twenty-three fucking years, and WenSeok finally happened.”

That reminds me of one thing. “Should we tell our high school clique?”

“Maybe when we have our fifteen-year reunion.” He doesn’t seem to have any intentions on letting me go, but likewise, I’m finding too much comfort in his body. Sighing contently into the crook of my neck, he whispers, “We don’t need all that publicity now, do we?”

Yeah, you know what? With our arms wound around each other in a tight, intimate embrace – I think we’re fine with a little privacy for the time being. 

“Fair enough.”

“Buuuut, I will be telling Da-Won  _noona_ later today.”

“Let me guess,” I begin with a giggle. “She shipped us?”

“Wow, how did you guess?”

“I guess I’m just lucky.” 

And without anymore words said, our lips are pressed together once more in a fervent, needy frenzy as if we were the only two people left on this Earth.  

* * *

 

Fortunately, Ji-Soo wasn’t too disappointed. In fact, we bumped into her on the streets of  _Myeong-Dong_  a few days after Ho-Seok declined her, and she was (Surprisingly) more than delighted to meet me. “I’ve heard so much about you!” She exclaims after shaking my hand, her demeanour friendly. “Ho-Seok- _sshi_  wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“ _Yah_ , Ji-Chu – “ The fact that Ho-Seok is blushing to the point of no return just prompts me to question her even more.

“What did he say?”

“Oh, you know. Basically, narrating your life stories together:  How you two grew up living next door, how he teases you, how you make fun of him.” Eyes flashing at him wickedly, she continues, “How he’s so thankful for someone like you in your life. He actually wanted to add a picture of you and him together on his Tinder profile, but decided against it. Said you’re too pretty and that girls might mistake you as being his girlfriend.” Her lips tug back into a lighthearted, cheerful grin. “But, I see it. You two are super cute together.”

Ho-Seok was right; she  _was_  perfectly lovely. So much to the point that I wanted to set her up on a date with a mutual friend of ours, Kim Seokjin. 

We continue walking down the crowded street back to the parking lot, hand in hand, when I comment, “I feel like you were in love with me before you even knew it yourself.”

Ho-Seok tightens his grip protectively, pulling me close. “Maybe, but come on. How can I resist  _this_?”

“Don’t you  _dare_  smack my ass in public.” 

He does, anyway. In front of a group of ogling high school students scouting for girls their age. “Sorry!” Ho-Seok apologizes to them, catching them off guard when they were clearly mesmerized by the backside of a girl in a school uniform, hands full from Innisfree bags. “She’s taken!”

The jerk.

“Really, though, are we pairing up a dentist with an orthodontist?” Ho-Seok laughs, sending a quick text message to Seokjin if he would be interested before unlocking his car. “How perfect would those two be for one another?”

“You know what would be even funnier? If they ended up together, they could open up a clinic together and it’d be called – ”

“Double Kim Dental?” Ho-Seok finishes.

“Wow,” I compliment, amazed. “You completely read my mind.”

“Girl, I’m your  _boyfriend_. What do you expect?”

Not only was he a perverted jerk, he was also a smart-ass piece of shit.

Just as Ho-Seok was about to reverse out from the parking spot, something suddenly pops back into my head. “Hey.” I strap on my seatbelt, and he turns his attention to me. We now have this thing where we keep our hands interlocked when he’s driving; I advised against it, telling him he should keep it on the shift gear but, he just can’t stop touching me. I like that. “I have one question.”

“Shoot.”

“Remember how we went on our pseudo-date, and you started to get all flustered over my outfit? What was that all about?”

Ho-Seok takes a moment to recall the memory, only to laugh amusingly afterwards once we hit the freeway. “I only have two words for you, Hwan- _ah_.” Lowering his voice to nothing but a whisper, he chuckles hotly into my ear. “Them  _legs_.”

“You are  _such_  an ass!”

“And you love it!”

“... _Primarilyyouthough_.”

“...Care to say it again?”

“Nah.”

“Why, you – !”

But yep, I ultimately have to concede defeat. Ho-Seok is right.  

We won’t have anything to worry about – in fact, I have a hunch that we’ll  _definitely_  be more than alright.

* * *

 

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy and giddy and bubbly after writing this, LOL (But, what can I say? WenHope just brings out my romantic side XD).   
> As cheesy as this might sound, I sincerely hope that all of you have (Or, for those who are single, WILL potentially find and have!) someone that loves you and appreciates you for all that you're worth - be it through platonic friendships, a significant other or even with your family. ♥


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